


To Bow with Pride

by neuralignition



Series: To Bow with Pride [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M, Non-canonical age difference among the Blacks, POV Multiple, Time Travel, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuralignition/pseuds/neuralignition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man with green eyes who looks strikingly like James comes to tutor the young Black generation. Sirius isn't sure what to make of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: Many thanks to Ninfea for the beta

* * *

 

Lucretia Prewett sighed as she put down a silver necklace adorned with bright jewels. It was a grand summer solstice reunion of the noble and most ancient house of Black, so she needed to choose carefully. The caliber of the gifts showed who held the most power and wealth among the family members. It was always an unspoken competition among the Blacks, showing each other who had the most wealth to give priceless gifts.

_Well, thank Merlin we don't have as many people as the Weasleys or I would have to spend my whole fortune on this event buying gifts for hundreds of brats. No wonder the Weasleys are poor._

Lucretia eyed a delicate golden ring. It was gorgeous, though no one in the family would be suited for it. Perhaps she could get it for Cassi. Lucretia looked around to find her daughter, noticing her small head gazing at an emerald jewel pin with yearning. She stifled a laugh at how Cassi desperately feigned indifference, though her eyes kept drifting back to the pin.

"Cassi, do you think your cousin Bellatrix will like this?" asked Lucretia, holding a ring in the air for Cassi to see. Cassi walked over toward her, all the while glancing back as if to make sure the pin wouldn't disappear into thin air. Lucretia handed the ring to her. Cassi inspected the ring with doubtful expression on her face.

"I don't think cousin Bellatrix appreciates beauty when she sees one. Perhaps Narcissa or Andromeda will. Bellatrix likes Dark artifacts or books about Dark curses rather than pretty jewels. She only likes jewels if they have some nasty hex or curse she could use." Cassi shivered.

Lucretia knew Cassi didn't like Bellatrix. It may have been because of the age difference, although Lucretia suspected it was Bellatrix's penchant for viciousness.

"Would you pick out appropriate presents for your cousins while I go ask the shopkeeper something?"

Cassi's face darkened, no doubt wondering how in the world she was going to find the right present for Bellatrix. But her face soon brightened. "We have to go to Zonko's if we want to find suitable presents for Sirius and Andromeda," she exclaimed. Lucretia mentally sighed as she noted to herself to warn Sirius and Andromeda not to corrupt her daughter. Those two pranksters were far too eager to recruit their little cousin to join forces to play tricks on the family.

Lucretia made sure Cassi was engrossed in her mission and went to the counter to pay for the pin Cassi was pining for. It would be her secret gift, she smiled as she tucked the pin into her purse.

"Cassi," Lucretia called, beckoning Cassi over.

"I can't find any Dark ornaments or beautiful trinkets that would satisfy cousin Bellatrix or Narcissa," grumbled Cassi, throwing a look over her shoulder to see if the pin was still there. But Lucretia couldn't let her find out too soon.

"Then we'll have to go to other shops to see," said Lucretia, guiding her daughter out the store, smiling to herself at Cassi's grumpy demeanor.

Diagon Alley wasn't too crowded as it usually was on a week before the start of the school. The ambiance was cheerful, nonetheless, with people chattering in the streets and children admiring a newly released broom in front of glass wall.

"Are we going to Zonko's?" asked Cassi, jumping up and down with excitement. Lucretia nodded as they passed several shops. Unlike other Blacks, she didn't mind her daughter behaving in such way.

The Alley was filled with excited families shopping for school supplies for the upcoming school year. Lucretia realised that she would be joining the crowd in a year. Oh how the time flew by, she thought and brushed her daughter's hair back.

Suddenly, a store window beside them shattered.

Lucretia immediately hugged Cassi close, reaching for her wand. Her heart thrummed against her ear with panic. Was that an accident or an attack? On Lucretia's left, boxes in front of the store exploded. She quickly cast a shield charm to block any fragments coming towards them. This was not an accident.

People began to scream and run to other side of the Alley, seeking protection. Spells splayed the air. Lucretia ducked as a blazing red curse shot towards one of the shops nearby, burning the door of the shop behind her. She frantically looked around. Where were they coming from?

Lucretia urgently whispered, "Cassi, we need to get out of here. Do you think you could run, so we can get to a safe place to Apparate?" Cassi nodded shakily, gulping nervously. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucretia saw a hooded figure lifting its arm to shoot another curse. Another figure aimed at the sky and shouted, "MORSMORDRE!"

Green mist shot into the air and exploded into … the Dark Mark.

Ominous greenish smoke illuminated in the sky, forming a shape of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. The surrounding clouds were dark grey as if the skull was emitting poisonous fumes that polluted everything.

High pitched screams erupted everywhere as people recognised the Dark Lord's symbol and pandemonium ensued. People were scrambling to seek shelter, some trying to keep their families close by tightly holding their hands.

Lucretia clenched her teeth in anger. Death Eater raids. She knew there were occasional raids by Death Eaters but she didn't expect them to raid a busy, guarded place such as Diagon Alley. She mustered up the energy to cast a strong shield charm around them. Then Lucretia dashed out, heading for a corner to hide, gripping Cassi's hand tightly, slipping on small fingers clammy with fear.

~*~

Everything was eerily quiet.

Lucretia held her daughter's hand tightly. She whipped her head around to see if there were attackers nearby. The surrounding was quiet. She tried to subdue her erratic breathing to hear any noise. She heard a whimper coming from below. Cassi looked up at her with frightened eyes.

"Mummy?"

"Shh." Lucretia put a finger on her mouth curling her other arm around her daughter's back firmly. Lucretia shifted her feet nervously, wincing as tiny particles of concrete crackled beneath her shoes. She couldn't risk any noise bringing danger to her child.

There was a rustling behind her. She whirled around, pointing her wand in the direction where the sound came from. She had to get out of the Alley. Judging by their movements, Death Eaters were not too keen on actually attacking people, but only wanting to strike fear into every witch and wizard's heart. But she didn't want to risk it. She needed to Apparate or Floo back to the Black estate, safely behind the protective wards. But how? She tried to calm her thundering heart to concentrate on Apparating, and instead of the usual twisting feeling of Apparition she stumbled into the stone wall as she failed to Disapparate. Lucretia mentally cursed as she balanced herself. The Death Eaters had prepared wards, hemming in the busy crowd in the Alley.

Another sound.

This time, the sound was much nearer. She could feel sweat forming on her back from anxiety and panic. Cassi trembled against her hand.

She leaned on the brick wall, closing her eyes as she counted three. One.

Lucretia grasped her wand tightly, her hold on the wand slick with sweat. Two. She went through the spells and curses she would cast. She had to hold the figures back until they were behind the Anti-Disapparition wards. Three.

She pulled Cassi behind her as she fired a curse around the corner. The masked figure quickly ducked, raising a shield. She shot another curse at the other masked person hiding behind the barrel. The barrel exploded. The man rolled aside, hastily shooting a body-binding spell at her as soon as he sat up. Lucretia blocked the spell with its counter. Slashing her wand in a large arc-like motion, she sent a curse in wide range to hit both figures. She hastily brushed the hair from her face, wiping the sweat forming around her eyes. She was tiring quickly. The constant shield charm around her daughter was draining her.

Perhaps the Death Eaters didn't recognise her yet because of the distance. She wasn't a Death Eater herself, but it was widely assumed every Black either sided with the Dark or at least didn't go against it. And the influence of their family had should have ensured their safe passage anywhere in the Wizarding World.

She couldn't make out if they were aiming to injure or kill, or just stun. If that were the case, there must be at least someone in this raid who recognised her as a Black, so should she let them near? But was she so sure? It seemed almost everyone either successfully evacuated before the Anti-Apparition ward came up or hid in the houses along the Alley. She should have Apparated immediately. Lucretia inwardly cursed at herself for being too taken aback. Did the Death Eaters think she was some Order member because she didn't Apparate away and stayed in Diagon Alley to fight them?

Lucretia swirled around to avoid another curse coming towards her. She desperately jabbed her wand to Stun both figures and get her daughter away from here. Lucretia growled, exasperated, as the two easily blocked the Stunners. She couldn't prolong this any longer. It would only be to her disadvantage. Should she just shout to tell them she was a Black? Then, she felt another figure approaching from behind.

_No!_

She mentally screamed as the two in front of her fired curses. She whirled around, exposing her back to them as she embraced Cassi to block any curses that may come from the figure behind Cassi. Lucretia wrenched her eyes close.

_"Protego!"_

The figure yelled, and Lucretia felt a powerful shield buzz behind her, protecting — her and Cassi. Alarmed, she lifted her head, only to see the figure send multiples of spells, several of them Lucretia had never seen, taking down the two masked figures before she could even marvel at such skill.

She didn't dare let Cassi go. Lucretia firmly held her daughter close and listened as the figure walked over to the attackers, murmuring binding spells.

"Mummy? Mummy, are you okay?" Cassi asked in a tentative voice.

Lucretia nodded, tensing as their savior strode over to them.

"Are you injured?" The question was laced with genuine concern.

The voice was surprisingly young. From the fluidity of his movement and the radiance of the magic, she assumed the stranger would be at least thirty years of age to have possessed such experience and skill. He was immediately beside them, crouching down to meet their eyes. Lucretia raised her head to appraise the figure. He was wearing a plain, black robe. Indeed, the man was very young, possibly in his early twenties, or even younger than that. His raven hair was tousled wildly by the tense attack – or maybe it was just the way it was, as he kept running one hand through it in agitation. The most brilliant green eyes she had ever seen darted between her and her daughter.

"Are you alright?" he asked again. "I could take you to St. Mungo's …" he faltered, eyes widening for a moment. He abruptly embraced Lucretia and Cassi close, holding them protectively as a shield dome formed around them, just as curses rained down on them. Maintaining the glowing dome around Lucretia and Cassi, the man quickly drew his wand out and stormed away in the direction the curses came from. The man's magic surrounded him in its fierce intensity.

The man easily deflected the curses aimed at him, sending offensive spells at the Death Eater like a natural reflex. As the man progressed toward his assailants without faltering, smoothly blocking the curses, the Death Eater began to panic, frantically shooting curses in succession. His dueling style was not that of an Auror, she observed. Maybe a mixture of Auror and some other forms. Surely a duelist of this caliber would not have gone unnoticed had he been trained in Britain. Lucretia frowned as she recalled no name she had heard that would match the description of the man. Who was he?

One spell headed towards Lucretia and Cassi, as the first Death Eater was joined by another, no doubt trying to divert the focus of the formidable young man. The man snarled in anger as he waved his wand in a complex movement. Then another shield, this time red and net-shaped, fizzed and sparked around them, absorbing the intended curse. Lucretia's eyes widened at the magic.

Absorption shield, she thought, awed. She eyed the man with both caution and admiration as he advanced towards his target. The two Death Eaters who had been firing curses at Lucretia and Cassi from the beginning scrambled, searching something in their robes. One of them rushed to the two body-bound figures on the ground. Lucretia felt the air shift as the wards went down. The Death Eaters disappeared from the alley using Portkeys.

Lucretia saw the man sigh in frustration, running a hand through his hair. She bent down to dry the tear streaks on Cassi's face and pat her cheeks comfortingly, and stood up, straightening the wrinkles on her robes. The man was still on guard, as if expecting to have another attack that would aim them. He muttered an incantation under his breath and the wand on his hand spun around. Then after a moment, the wand came to rest. Seeing that, the man visibly relaxed.

"Thank you," said Lucretia, and felt herself truly mean it. She looked down to see if Cassi was alright, whose face was white from shock and fear. She squeezed her daughter's hand to reassure her.

"I am Lucretia Prewett, née Black, and this is my daughter Cassiopeia. We owe you our lives, Mister …" inquired Lucretia.

"Carrow. Harry Carrow."

_Carrow?_

Lucretia pursed her lips as she rummaged through the Wizarding family names in her head. It took her some time to remember what she knew about the Carrows. _I haven't heard about the Carrows for quite a while._

The Carrows were well-known for their privacy. They weren't as politically active as the Blacks or the Malfoys. They also didn't expand their economic or political influence through marriages as much as Blacks did. Lucretia was often surprised at the number of pureblood families the Blacks were related to, by blood or by marriage. However, the Carrows were not one of them. On the other hand, they were known for producing talented scholars.

Hm. She appraised the man before her. The man had fine features, and decent enough manners to put himself at risk to rescue a woman and her child. This man was righteous and honest. His green eyes were trusting, perhaps far too trusting in Lucretia's opinion. _Naïve people cannot endure this cruel world,_ she thought bitterly. But then, when she recalled the keen eyes, powerful and determined demeanor, she believed this man wasn't that callow. Besides, Cassi seemed to like him, and Lucretia trusted children's intuition. Or at least her daughter's intuition.

And the power and knowledge of spells he possessed. She could feel her eyes gleam. He would be a great asset and an ally in these times of fear. If he could be trusted, he might be a good mentor to her.

"I would like to thank you properly," she smiled earnestly. "The Blacks do not express their gratitude to their savior this poorly."

"No, no," the man waved his hands frantically. "I didn't protect you just to get some reward. Anyone would have done it if I didn't."

Indeed, Lucretia mentally rolled her eyes. She doubted it. _They're just too busy saving their own arses,_ she sneered.

"It would be considered rude if you keep insist on refusing a gesture of gratitude from people who owe it to you," she chided, raising her eyebrow to make the man feel uncomfortable. "Come with us to the Black manor."

She could not let him go so easily. This was her chance to make acquaintance with the man and establish an alliance. She trusted her own judgment and her child's. But in the unlikely event that they were both wrong about the man, the Black Manor would still be more advantageous ground for her with her relatives and the wards present.

"I, I —" he stammered, eyes wandering frantically as if looking for a way out. He didn't look as half distressed as when he was battling the Death Eater. Then he slumped, sighing. "I would like that very much," he said, smiling helplessly at them.

"Cassi, why don't you hold his hand so he could Side-Along Apparate with us?" she encouraged, nudging Cassi's shoulder towards the man. She pictured the Black Manor in her head to Apparate. It was only when she felt the familiar feeling of Apparition twisting her stomach that she remembered she didn't finish buying the presents. _Oh well,_ she mentally shrugged. _I'm bringing a much better present anyway._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Again, thanks to Ninfea for the beta.

* * *

 

Sirius Black was uncharacteristically subdued. He hid his sullen face behind a glass, taking tiny sips. Soon after he arrived at the summer gathering at the family seat, it took only one remark in Arcturus' acid drawl about Gryffindor, "Still rolling in that muggle filth, are you?" and he retreated to the corner to avoid engaging in any conversations with his relatives. The Black gathering always put Sirius on edge, in contrast to the rest of the Blacks who were fully enjoying their posh robes and dresses and flaunting their wealth and individual connections.

He was tempted to put a jinx on the food table to alleviate his anxiety. But ever since Irma had slapped Sirius in public for spiking the cocktail served at a gala two years ago, he didn't dare. Irma Black, nee Crabbe, absolutely terrified Sirius. She was one of the Heads of the Blacks, an intimidating woman with hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce into people and shred through their minds with her claws. He kept a careful eye on her – if she was heading in his direction, he would bolt out to another hiding place. Thank Merlin that Arcturus, Irma, and other Heads of the Blacks were staying at the East Wing of the Manor, far far from his room.

Home had stopped being home long time ago. Especially during the summer when most of the Blacks gathered in the Black Manor and socialised for at least a month. Sirius felt like he was treading on a war ground in the Black Manor with his vulnerabilities open — soldiering through a raft of enemies who always knew precisely where to strike to inflict the most pain.

Sirius leaned his head against the wall and sighed, wondering when his misery would end. But he tensed as he heard footsteps nearing him.

"Move out of my way," Bellatrix hissed, shoving roughly against him as she collected a glass from the buffet.

Sirius grimaced and inched away from his cousin. Bellatrix always acted like everything Sirius did raised her hackles, and Sirius had soon figured it was best to stay away. Her obsession with Dark Arts and constant mockery towards his Gryffindor friends put Sirius in constant conflict with his cousin.

He sorely missed his friends. Sirius wondered what others were doing. Remus was probably studying for OWLs already; James and Sirius would cram for two weeks before the exams like they had always done. Peter might be practicing Quidditch with James.

Sirius ignored the pang in his heart. He broke out of his reverie when he noticed a stranger among the old coots.

That was odd. Was he one of the distant or estranged relatives?

Sirius scanned the stranger. He was surprised to see his relatives not clucking their tongues at the man's tousled, unruly hair, a style his relatives always detested. The man looked quite charming, but Sirius had thought the Blacks favored cool, cunning faces, claiming such features as "pureblood." The man exuded confidence and had the stance of an experienced soldier, both alert and relaxed at the same time. Who was he?

He caught Cassi's eyes and waved playfully. His favorite little cousin was standing beside her mother who was talking to the stranger with genuine appreciation on her face. Sirius was surprised. Aunt Lucretia didn't often have such a look on her face when dealing with strangers.

Sirius disliked Lucretia less for being the sanest among his relatives and for her witty retorts. Sure, she took the blood purity into account when judging someone, but it wasn't as extreme as other relatives. It also helped that she didn't bash on him and his Gryffindor allegiance.

He snickered as Andromeda too was stung by a barb from Arcturus' tongue and joined him in his corner space, accompanied by Narcissa. "Who is the new bloke?" Sirius asked her, tilting his head towards the stranger. She looked relieved to drop the fake smile especially worn for their relatives.

"Dunno. Heard he saved Lucretia and Cassi from the Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley," answered Andromeda.

"What? Are they okay?" asked Sirius, alarmed. Sirius scanned Lucretia and Cassi and sighed in relief when he couldn't see any visible harm.

"Is he pureblood?" asked Narcissa, glancing at the man.

"I don't know. But I'm sure that he's at least half pureblood. And I mean _pure_ pureblood, not like those Weasleys who degrade themselves by marrying filth, but a regal and noble pureblood," said Bellatrix from behind them, making Sirius jump, appraising the man with sharp eyes. "Of course he can't have those features and manners without having some pureblood in his blood," she smirked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, cousin, but 'pureblood' doesn't inherently have aesthetic features. Look at Goyle. The git is as pureblood as he can get and he looks like a direct descendant of a troll."

Andromeda smothered a laughter.

"Yes, just like how you're pureblood and you act like a mangy mutt," Bellatrix shot back.

Sirius ignored her.

Andromeda coughed. "He looks dashing," Andromeda grinned, waggling her eyebrows, trying to lighten up the mood.

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. He thought Dromeda had a crush on a Hufflepuff. At least, that's what she'd be been denying shrilly whenever he teased her about it. Not that he did so near any other Blacks – that would be cruel, considering her parents were the most dreadful in their unadulterated hatred for Muggles and mudbloods. When she demanded to be told how he knew about her secret studying sessions with her Hufflepuff, Sirius would avoid answering by simply running away. Of course he couldn't tell her Sirius and his friends were roaming and inspecting 7th floor to complete the Marauder's Map. Sirius almost felt that having James' Invisibility Cloak was cheating; snooping was so easy.

Sirius staggered as someone lightly punched him in the arm. It was Uncle Alphard. "Having fun, Sirius?" Bellatrix took one look at him and stalked away, sneering. "Hullo, Narcissa." Narcissa gave Alphard a nod.

"Oh yeah," replied Sirius, rolling his eyes.

Uncle Alphard nodded knowingly. Among the Blacks, Alphard was one of the very few people he could relate to. Alphard precariously balanced himself between being a member of the Black family, albeit barely meeting their expectations, and being a wizard who befriended muggleborns and even Muggles, masterfully disguising the latter side to their relatives – except he loved his half-Muggle, half-wizard fashion which irritated the Blacks. Sirius knew Alphard earned Narcissa's respect for his extensive traveling.

Alphard was the very first person other than his friends who told Sirius that it was okay to be a Gryffindor. He had hugged Sirius and said he was proud to have a nephew with the heart of a lion.

"Why aren't you in that group, Uncle Alphard?" Sirius asked, pointing with his chin at the group around the stranger.

"Nah," he waved his hand dismissively. "Heard the man attended Durmstrang. That's an outright label for pureblood worshipers. And you know how much I want to befriend those people."

"He looks like a bloody ponce to me," Sirius mumbled.

Alphard slowly shook his head and gave Sirius a look of mock concern and pity.

~*~

Lucretia applauded her cleverness in bringing the stranger home. Carrow, or Harry as she'd been invited to call him, was indeed a great find. Harry was clearly brilliant. He had driven off those Death Eaters without a twitch. He was fending off the Blacks in their own home with deft skill, handling Druella's grilling on his Durmstrang education and Cassi tugging on his sleeve to demand whether he could play Quidditch with equal patience and courtesy. He had even charmed that old grouch Irma into, if not outright acceptance, then forbearance.

But with every answer he gave, five more would leap to Lucretia's lips, and she was struggling to hold her tongue. If he was British-born, why did he go to Durmstrang when his cousins went to Hogwarts? Why was he reluctant to talk about his relatives? How and where did he learn all that advanced magic?

Still, even with his mystery, his power and charm was magnetic.

Lucretia could see the fleeting, shrewd glint in her relatives' eyes as they stared at the man. Blacks had a knack for identifying any sort of profit or advantage for self-preservation. They all were thinking the same thing. Establish a tie with this man. And exploit the man's obvious soft-heartedness with children.

The elder Blacks with children in Hogwarts decided to seize the opportunity. Walburga and Orion exchanged glances, and beside them, Cygnus coolly nodded to Druella and she gave him an approving smile.

Regulus would be in his 4th year, and Sirius and Narcissa in their 5th. They could ask for the man's help with their OWLs and Andromeda with her NEWTs. As for Bellatrix, for her upcoming final year in Hogwarts, she wanted to secure her top rank and reputation in Hogwarts Dueling club before she graduated.

"Did you hear about the current British Dark Lord, Mr. Carrow?" asked Druella, clearly unable to restrain herself any further. Suddenly people around them broke into murmurs about the Dark.

"Yes. Speaking of which, I didn't know the Death Eaters decided to employ offensive tactics," said the man, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh now, about that matter," Irma bustled. "How dare they sweep you, members of the Black family, into the middle of Diagon Alley! You are all right, aren't you, my dears?" Irma patted Cassi's cheek again. Cassi cringed and shied away from Irma's hand. Lucretia growled inwardly. _That woman,_ she sighed.

"Don't take it too personally." Irma advised them. "The Dark Lord knows our allegiance lies with him. I'm sure it wasn't his intention to hurt you."

"Even if it wasn't the intention, the end result was us almost getting killed," Lucretia bristled.

Irma waved it off. "I'm sure it was mere intimidation."

The man turned to face Irma. "Allegiance? So does the Black family formally support the Dark Lord?"

Pollux coughed. "Well … Allegiance might be a strong word," said Pollux, trying to be diplomatic. Irma threw a reproachful look at him. She preferred straightforwardness rather than convoluted slyness with intentional ambiguity.

"But that is not to say we don't agree with his views on muggles and mudbloods," Pollux hastily added after eyeing Irma's disgruntled face.

"Well at least mudbloods have magic," said Orion grudgingly. "Nonetheless, they risk too much exposure for the Wizarding World, having their feet in both the muggle and Wizarding World."

The Blacks around them nodded and murmured in agreement, their spite towards muggles and muggleborns flashing in their eyes.

~*~

Sirius cautiously eyed Orion, Walburga, Cygnus, and Druella surrounding the man with too eager looks on their faces. He couldn't help but applaud the stranger for holding his ground against the team of notorious four Blacks.

"Why are they looking at us? They look too bloody cheerful. That usually means someone's going to be hurt," said Sirius with dread pooling in his stomach. It didn't help that Alphard's look of pity was quite genuine before he walked away to entertain Marius Black who recently came back from Austria.

"You're overreacting again," Bellatrix sneered, clearly unfazed at their parents' scheme. Sirius ignored her and turned to Andromeda who was sharing a piece of dessert with Narcissa.

Andromeda looked over at the crowd, assessing the interaction between the man and their parents. The man's expression remained politely blank until Druella stepped closer and said something, joined by Cygnus. The stranger seemed confused at first. Then as Lucretia chimed in, gesturing at Cassi and also towards the younger Blacks who were watching from afar, he contemplated for a while and nodded in agreement. Their parents smiled in relief.

"Children." Druella approached them with a satisfied smile on her lips. She looked like the cat who got at the cream. The stranger looked like he'd had an unexpected windfall, and was smiling at them with an amused glint in his eyes. Sirius eyed him suspiciously.

"I believe we found you a tutor," said Druella, gesturing at the man. "Mr. Carrow is a very skilled wizard and has extensive knowledge in various areas of magic. We deem his assistance to be helpful to your studies and preparations for exams."

"What? We just got out of school a week ago!" Sirius protested.

"We, as in —?" inquired Narcissa.

"Your father and I. And, of course, Orion and Walburga. Lucretia wants Mr. Carrow to teach Cassi the basic theories of magic in general and help her with Potions, and we figured all of you may appreciate his help for your exams."

"How do you know he's so 'skilled' when you've only known him for less than a day?" snapped Sirius, feeling ridiculous that they would appoint the man with dubious background.

"Lucretia can attest to his skills." His mother silently scolded Sirius, her cold coal-like eyes drilling into Sirius'. _And are you doubting our judgment?_ He dropped his eyes to the floor, fuming.

"I need help with Defense," said Andromeda, shrugging.

Lucretia, who had been standing beside the man, smiled.

"From what I gathered watching Mr. Carrow dueling, he's beyond capable in Defense as well as offensive magic, I can guarantee you that." The man flushed at her compliment. Sirius rolled his eyes.

Narcissa stared at the man with unreadable expression. "Are you good at Transfiguration?"

The man smiled, flicking his wand. The dessert on the plate Narcissa was holding turned into an opal swan pendant. Sirius snorted at the man's flirtatious gesture. Surprisingly, Narcissa seemed to take it well, with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She nodded in approval.

A small voice said in the back: "I wish to improve my Potions skills."

 _Fine, be a good, little mama's boy,_ he scowled at his brother.

"I can't prove my Potions skill on the spot, but I can help you with the background theories necessary and helpful to understand the Potions and brewing." Harry nodded, smiling.

"Okay," Regulus nodded. "That's fine with me."

"But we don't _have any guarantee or proof_ that you are, in fact, talented and capable of teaching us," said Sirius, determined to undermine whatever cover the man had. Then he yelped as he felt a hand pinching his ribs.

 _"Sirius, Cousin,"_ Andromeda forced a smile, clenching her teeth at the same time. "We'll figure that out when he tutors us few times first. If he's not good at it, we can always tell him that we don't need the tutoring." People around nodded in agreement. Sirius growled. He was losing it. He sighed, deciding to resort to extreme measures.

"Dear cousin Bellatrix, surely you don't trust this stranger to tutor us?" he asked, stiffly smiling. Bellatrix just ignored him, turning towards Lucretia.

"Did you say his skills in dueling were remarkable, Aunt Lucretia?" inquired Bellatrix sweetly, narrowing her eyes in interest.

"Oh yes. You should have seen the spells he used on them, also casting a magnificent shield to protect us all the while. Mr. Carrow, how did you deflect the curses in succession? I didn't know one could do that."

"Spell deflection?" gaped Bellatrix, eyes darting at the man in shock. Lucretia smirked at Bellatrix's reaction.

"And he also cast an absorption shield," she grinned, raising her eyebrows. Bellatrix's eyes were practically radiating with greed as she stared at the man who was ruffling his hair in embarrassment.

The man coughed. "Well, yes."

"You _have_ to teach me how to deflect spells and how to cast the absorption shield," Bellatrix all but leaped at the man. The man looked startled at first but nodded.

"Well, I guess that settles it then," said Druella, clasping her hands. She stared at each young Black, beaming. "With the exception of Sirius, Mr. Carrow will tutor the areas you need help with."

Sirius sighed in irritation. Well, at least that was fine with him. Until his mother barged in.

"Oh no, Sirius Orion Black, you may pretend you don't need any help, but I saw your recent grades, and they appeared as if they need some help," his mother said with disdain, crossing her arms, and glared at him.

 _Damn,_ Sirius cursed. It wasn't that Sirius needed help. He and James were too busy researching Animagi and discarded studying for the exams. Both of them were determined to become Animagi this year and didn't care about their studies, even less than usual.

"Only one dropped from O to E!" he seethed.

"They shouldn't have dropped at all!" his mother screeched. "Regulus always maintains his grade!"

 _Yeah, as D, I'm sure,_ Sirius grumbled inwardly.

"Sirius, your mother and I are concerned about your grades. Even before this, we thought of asking for help if you need it —"

"Well, I don't need it!" said Sirius shortly.

"You don't get to decide this. Your grades dropped and you're not studying. So, have a tutor to help you or no Hogsmeade visits for next year!"

Sirius stared at his parents, unfazed. He actually felt like laughing out loud at the threat. As if that would stop him. Sirius never felt more gratitude towards James for coming up with the idea of the Marauder's Map. Although…

"All right, Carrow: how much do you know about Transfiguration?" Sirius smirked slyly.

The man remained infuriatingly calm and confident as he answered. "Quite. I've got a good grasp on human to nonhuman transfiguration both active and passive, voluntary and involuntary, and object to object transfiguration."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. Was Animagus transformation included in voluntary and active human no nonhuman transfiguration? Sirius mentally went through the table of contents of major Transfiguration textbook. He paused, scowling. Sirius would not admit he needed help with Animagus transformation. It was going smoothly; he was taking the necessary steps as indicated in the textbook that James had nicked from the Restricted Section.

But the man's answers seemed to satisfy his mother who gave a pleased nod.

"I believe that's settled then," said Druella.

This was going to be a rough summer.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Many thanks to Ninfea for the beta

* * *

 

Sirius scowled. 

He simply could not get rid of Carrow. During the last weeks and a half, he expected – hoped – at least someone would complain about the man's inability to teach, but no one did. Every time he told his parents that Carrow was a lousy teacher and taught him nothing — which was actually true, because Sirius was avoiding him — Walburga and Orion ignored him and asked the others about their lessons instead. Of course, the others were more than satisfied with Carrow's magical skills. 

From hearing bits of conversation among Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Regulus, and even Cassi, it seemed Carrow was indeed teaching them well. He had noticed they were talking about Carrow, casually referring to him as Harry as if they already became friends with him. When they gathered all they talked about was Harry taught me this, Harry told me that, Harry showed me the other, all that rubbish. 

Sirius refused to learn from Carrow. So whenever Carrow came into his room, Sirius ignored him and did something else: reading books, and casting random spells, which infuriatingly, Carrow always successfully blocked if aimed at him. But the man would just sit back, doing his own things — Merlin-knew-what since Sirius didn't want to peek. His pride didn't allow him to. Days went by in such patterns, with Sirius expecting Carrow to explode in frustration and march out of his room at any moment. But no — the man would simply sit in his room, never pressuring Sirius to listen to him or look at him or whatever rubbish teachers expect students to do. 

One day, ten days after Harry arrived at the Black Manor, the silence became too much for Sirius. His body was itching from this dead silence. He shifted his feet. Sirius stared at Carrow, sitting in a corner, who was reading a tome and to any observer deep in thought. 

"What do you teach the others?" Sirius blurted. He mentally groaned as Carrow slowly lifted his head from the book and lifted the corner of his lips slightly. Sirius felt he had just lost an unspoken game. 

"Oh, you know. Things." Carrow shrugged. He laid the atrociously thick book on the desk with a heavy thud. 

Sirius blinked. "Things," he repeated. 

"Yes. I teach them what they want to learn." 

"Oh? So, do you teach Unforgivables and Dark Arts to Bellatrix?" Sirius sneered. 

Carrow stared at him. "No," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Not quite." 

"What? You don't?" Sirius was genuinely surprised. The Blacks were usually considered Dark, but to Sirius, it seemed that Bellatrix was the one with the penchant for cruelty. Sirius knew no one else that had the inclination to cast such Dark magic. "Well, _what_ do you teach her?" 

"I teach her how to duel," Carrow said. Sirius twisted his face — _Ha! And using chickens for the Blood-boiling Curse!_ — but Carrow continued on. "She wanted to know the formalities, the vows that are associated with some duels, and how the magic plays its role in a Wizard's duel." 

Sirius was _not_ going to admit that he was a bit fascinated by the topic. Not at all. "No mock duels? No curses at dummies? No casting Imperius, Cruciatus, Avada Kedavra on tarantulas?" 

"Yes — mostly practicing aiming — and definitely no," Carrow said, incredulous. "You seem to be a bit … biased against your cousin." 

"Biased? A bit?" Sirius snorted. "I have spent my entire life with her nearby. I _know_ what she's like. She cast a wandless Cruciatus at a house elf when she was thirteen." He shuddered. 

"How do you know if it was Cruciatus at all?" Carrow regarded him with a thoughtful gaze. 

"Obviously, the twitching, whimpering, and shrieking are the effects of Cruciatus," Sirius replied defensively. 

"Not necessarily. Cruciatus is not the only curse that brings out such a response from victims," Carrow pointed out. 

Sirius unconsciously shivered at the thought of other curses existing that worked like Cruciatus. 

"There's a reason that Cruciatus curse is an Unforgiveable. The pain it inflicts is only a heartbeat away from death. And prolonged exposure to Cruciatus curse can break one's mind and render it beyond repair. If Bellatrix had indeed cast it on the house elf, the Ministry would have contacted the Blacks," Carrow said reasonably. 

"In case you haven't noticed, we can cast magic in this house without having the Ministry sent its owls a dozen times a day with Underage warnings. The wards prevent anyone from knowing underage magic is performed within this house." 

"Ah, I suspected that." 

_Oh, did you?_ Sirius rolled his eyes in irritation. 

Carrow continued on, moving into teaching mode. "And in order to cast Cruciatus curse, you have to feel intense hatred toward the victim. I don't think a house elf not doing his or her work in a satisfactory manner would spur enough hatred to cast a Cruciatus." 

"Maybe you don't know Bellatrix very well," Sirius said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He glared at Carrow, and returned to his book absent-mindedly. Anyone sympathising or understanding Bellatrix was a red alert for Sirius. Besides, Carrow had graduated from Durmstrang. He remembered what Uncle Alphard had said, Carrow very likely was a pureblood worshiper on that fact alone. But, a small voice whispered insistently, _Andromeda wouldn't associate with him if she thought he was like that._

Sirius studiously ignored Carrow's presence beside him. 

~*~ 

Regulus flexed his wrist discreetly, not wanting Harry to notice his tiredness. They were working on the Shrinking Potion. Chopping daisy roots was not as easy a process as it looked. He didn't know if daisy roots were stiff and hard in general or if his daisy roots were particularly uncooperative. He peeked at Harry only to see him staring at his flexing wrist with concern. 

"Here, let me help you." Harry took the wretched daisy roots out of his hands and started to cut them himself swiftly. The room was silent except the rhythmic sound of chopping. Regulus couldn't help but have his mind drift off. 

It had been awkward at first. Regulus had been nervous and reticent during his first few encounters with Harry. Regulus had first called the man as Mr. Carrow, only to have the man wrinkle his nose in dislike and insist Regulus called him Harry, saying that it made him feel old. After few sessions, Regulus was finally starting to get comfortable with referring to the man as Harry. 

Harry had seemed perfectly at ease, whereas Regulus had been rigid out of stranger anxiety. The awkwardness that made Regulus fidget in the beginning of each session quickly dissipated as soon as Harry explained the spells and potions in such contagious enthusiasm that also made Regulus excited, It had been odd to see a grown-up act with such passion, reminding Regulus of a child going on and on about the newly released broom. But seeing it almost every day made it somehow admirable. Deep inside, Regulus was comforted that becoming an adult did not mean loss of passion in life. Other adults he had seen in his life often had dull eyes. Regulus assessed Harry again. The spectacles Harry wore did not dim the vivacious sparkle in his eyes. 

Regulus' mind focused on the present as Harry shifted in his seat. 

"Shall we stop for a bit?" Harry said, stretching his arms with a mock groan. Regulus nodded as he too stretched. 

"Merlin, those daisy roots are hard to cut as sopophorous beans! Well, in a different way," Harry added. 

"Right, because they're oddly slippery despite their appearance," Regulus said in a student manner. 

"Yes," he smiled in compliment, as if to say '10 points to Slytherin.' "It's much easier to crush the beans if you need the juice than cutting them." 

Regulus made a mental note of it. He looked down at his gooey, porridge like potion. He was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be like that. 

"I don't think my Potions skills would ever improve," Regulus mumbled, suddenly feeling morose. He knew it was impossible, with his clumsy fingers and all. Regulus let out a sigh. 

"Nonsense! I was much worse than you in Potions but here I am," Harry said, gesturing at himself in a showy, exaggerated manner. Regulus gave a small smile at his theatrical behavior. "I didn't really have a nice professor for Potions. Er, he hated my guts." Harry grimaced and stirred the potion. "I transferred my hatred of the teacher to the subject. And you know how you cannot do well in something you dislike. After graduating, I learned Potions from a different Potions Master. It was nothing like I'd seen in my school days," said Harry. "How each property of potion ingredients come together to form a liquid substance that has effect, how one ingredient change can render completely opposite effect, how there are still immense possibility of new potions, and — " he stopped short, looking embarrassed. 

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, pushing his spectacles up on his nose. "I got carried away. Again," Harry said sheepishly. 

Regulus laughed. "It's alright. It's quite amusing to see you like that, actually." He grinned at the mock affronted look Harry shot at his direction. Merlin, he was getting used to Harry to the point he was jesting with him. 

"I like that aspect of Potions, too. Though how rat tails are used in hair-raising potion is beyond me. It's amazing," Regulus emphasised. "But very … disturbing." 

Regulus helplessly smiled as Harry launched an explanation of how rat tails are used. As he mentioned, Harry's enthusiasm was contagious. 

~*~ 

Regulus gulped nervously as he finished casting Silencing charm and locked the door. He didn't want any intruders or disturbers when he was brewing this potion. 

"Mistress says Master Regulus mustn't brew potions without supervision," Kreacher grumbled, fidgeting anxiously. 

"That's why I have you with me," Regulus said, grounding bicorn horn. He looked up at stunned Kreacher. "I know you would protect me." Regulus grinned. "I trust you, Kreacher." 

Kreacher coughed, embarrassed, bringing his spidery hands up to his face to conceal wet moisture forming in his eyes. "Kreacher always protects Master Regulus," Kreacher said solemnly, his ears twitching upwards in determination. 

Regulus nodded and turned his attention to the directions. He frowned. What did this mean? The statement was ambiguous as to how the knotgrass should be added to the potion. 

"Kreacher, what do you think this direction means?" he asked, crouching for Kreacher to get a better view, and pointed to the direction. Kreacher leaned forward, eyes squinting to decipher the letters. Regulus had taught Kreacher how to read since he was 9 years old. Kreacher had shunned away from it at first, muttering how dare a house elf learn to read or write. It was only after Regulus convinced Kreacher that teaching him was a way of helping himself how to read that had Kreacher finally relented. 

Regulus waited patiently as Kreacher fingered each letter, mouthing the words silently. He looked up in utter befuddlement and bowed deeply in apologetic manner, his head nearly touching the floor. 

"Kreacher is a dimwitted creature who can't help Master Regulus," he mumbled, tugging at his worn out clothes. Regulus made a mental note to persuade his mother to get Kreacher decent clothes. Or possibly free him. 

"I guess, I should just put it in the potion," said Regulus, scratching his head. He tossed the knotgrass into the cauldron. 

BANG. 

The cauldron exploded as soon as the knotgrass touched the surface of the potion, sending its boiling content all over the room. Regulus scrunched his eyes shut, swearing mentally for not being able to cast a shield charm that quickly. 

Then he heard fingers snap hastily with an astonished cry. Regulus hesitantly opened his eyes, only to stare at an invisible shield blocking the steaming goo of a potion. Kreacher had his hands stretched toward, standing in front of Regulus as if to protect him. No, Kreacher had indeed protected him. 

"Is master Regulus all right?" Kreacher asked in trembling voice. 

"Yes, I'm fine," Regulus breathed, his heart racing from the previous shock. Regulus frantically eyed the room to assess the mess. Nothing he couldn't handle with _Scourgify_. 

His eyes widened as he took in Kreacher's burnt fingers. 

"Kreacher!" he cried. "Kreacher, are you alright?" 

Regulus quickly cast _Scourgify_ to get rid of the mess and knelt down on the floor, reaching for Kreacher. Kreacher was clutching his fingers, his face slightly wrenched up in agony. When he saw Regulus stare at him in concern, Kreacher feigned nonchalance, hiding his hands behind his back. 

"Kreacher is fine, Master Regulus," he mumbled, avoiding Regulus' eyes. Kreacher slowly attempted to move away from Regulus' scrutinising gaze. 

"I saw the burn on your finger, Kreacher. I have a healing salve, come on – " Regulus insisted. 

"Master Regulus mustn't waste a healing salve on mere house elf like Kreacher," he muttered. 

Regulus scowled at Kreacher's unbearable self-deprecation. "I'm not _wasting_ the salve. I'm _healing_ you, Kreacher. You got hurt saving me. How's that supposed to be a waste?" he said, reaching for the salve. 

Then the door slammed open. 

Both Regulus and Kreacher whipped their heads to the door, startled and frightened. For a moment, Regulus panicked. _I thought I had cast Silencing and Locking Charm,_ he thought, alarmed. Was his skill in Charms that atrocious, not even able to cast such simple charms? 

Harry stood by the door, eyes frantic with worry. 

"What happened? I thought I felt an explosion here," he said, assessing Regulus and Kreacher for any damages. 

"Kreacher! You're burnt!" he exclaimed, as he spotted Regulus holding Kreacher's burnt fingers. Regulus smirked at Kreacher's discomfort. Kreacher would have not only Regulus but also the new tutor to pester him regarding his health. 

Realising that, Regulus appraised Harry with a new perspective. Most people didn't care about so-called 'inferior beings.' That was why Regulus didn't regard Sirius as a wonderful, decent person, regardless of how loyal he may be to his friends. He did think Sirius was talented in certain areas of magic, but as a human being in general, Sirius was an arsehole sometimes. 

Regulus summoned the salve while Kreacher was distracted and applied it to his fingers. Kreacher hissed lowly, trying to withdraw his fingers from Regulus' stubborn hand. "Master Regulus mustn't —" he protested. 

"Oh, shush Kreacher," said both Regulus and Harry. They looked at each other, startled, and burst into laughter. While laughing, Regulus felt his face heat up as he noticed the soft, gentle look in Harry's eyes behind the round spectacles. Sirius had only gazed at him oddly in times like this, as if silently asking why Regulus would even care about the 'worthless creature.' But this — this man, he recognised kindness when he saw one. Kindness, tenderness, friendship, love, and other values that were often overlooked. Regulus felt a warm tingle in his chest. 

After Regulus finished bandaging Kreacher's fingers, Kreacher awkwardly bowed and hastily Disapparated away. Soft chuckles sounded the room at Kreacher's embarrassment. 

"I haven't seen that many people caring for their house elves," Harry said softly, appraising Regulus with curious gaze. 

"Kreacher has been with me ever since I could remember of my childhood. He took care of me when mother and father were busy attending Ministry galas." Regulus tried to conceal the bitterness in his voice. He also had Sirius but well …

"Ah, I had a friend, a house elf, who always tried to help me — although sometimes his help wasn't exactly helpful by conventional means. But he was a good friend," he smiled wistfully. 

"What happened?" Regulus asked carefully, hoping he wasn't disturbing a past wound. 

Harry blinked. He nibbled his lips with a slightly confused look on his face. Harry stared into space for a moment. 

"I don't know," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm not sure what happened to him."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Harry placed his chin on his hand and seemed to ponder. Regulus fidgeted nervously beside him. 

Harry sat upright and clapped his hands. Regulus was glad to see the sparkle back in his eyes. 

"Now, what happened? Which potion were you trying to brew so discreetly, hm?" 

Regulus quickly mumbled under his breath. 

"What?" 

"Polyjuice Potion." 

"WHAT?" Harry cried. "You know better than to brew a potion like that with no supervision!" 

"Well, I had Kreacher," Regulus replied, smiling sheepishly, but Harry didn't return the smile. 

"It might've been worse if Kreacher wasn't able to protect you! What made you brew Polyjuice potion anyway?" he asked, exasperated. 

"It seemed interesting," Regulus said, staring at the floor. He tugged a strand of hair nervously, a habit he learned while observing the man. "And I wanted to practice before our lesson," Regulus mumbled, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "I wanted to improve brewing skill." 

"I understand that you want to practice yourself, but I don't want you to feel pressure that you have to improve for our each lesson," Harry said gently, his eyes wandering on Regulus' face. "That's why I'm here, to help you. I'm not here to test you each week if you've improved or not. It is okay to ask for help. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all need help sometime in our lives."

"Okay," Regulus whispered. He felt as if an invisible hippogriff on his chest flew away at Harry's words. 

~*~ 

"Hullo, Aunt Lucretia. Great to see you pop by," said Andromeda. "Is Cassi here too?" 

"Yes, she's out in the parlor with Harry learning Potions ingredients." 

Both women turned their heads towards the parlor and smiled. Their eyes darted between Harry who was explaining the properties of each Potions ingredient and Cassi who was listening with attentive eyes, drinking in every word. Cassi's eyes had visible awe in them. 

Lucretia turned her attention to the _Daily Prophet_. The title of the main article read _"War Ahead? Conflicts between the Two Sides Worsen Each Day."_

Lucretia sighed at another article saying the war was upon them. In the last months, or perhaps years, the Daily Prophet had been producing countless articles dealing with the possible outbreak of war, probably aiming to get more people to read. She was starting to think because people had been hearing about the possibility of war since last year, it had become an every-day routine for people to hear about it. It became too casual. People were becoming indifferent. When the actual war starts, it would be chaos. 

But, what did it take for people to perceive it as _war?_ Considering the Death Eater raids happening nowadays, wasn't that enough to be a war? Or did it take a whole town to be wiped out for the Daily Prophet to declare the current state as war? 

She had been in fear of oncoming war for the sake of Cassi. War was an ugly event that Lucretia never wanted Cassi to experience. She hoped the Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley was the closest thing to a war that Cassi would experience for the first and last time. 

Lucretia closed her eyes as she was reminded of the heart-gripping fear she felt for her child's safety. 

What kind of parents would want their child to go through war? She mentally paused as some familiar names popped up in her head at that question and grimaced. 

"Did something else happen other than the Order and Death Eaters bickering at each other?" asked Andromeda. Her shoulders silently shook with strained laughter as she saw Cassi's face scrunch up in disgust as Harry mentioned a bezoar came from a goat's stomach. Harry held out the bezoar to Cassi and she reluctantly took it in her hands. Cassi's mouth stretched downward in grim expression. Her eyes met Andromeda's. Cassi quietly mouthed 'yuck' at her, lifting the bezoar for her to see. Andromeda grinned. 

"No … Wait," Lucretia scanned the article swiftly and lifted her head with a frown. "A new group of people who insist on labeling blood-status emerged." 

"Really?" Andromeda straightened up. 

"Muggleborns call this group as 'sanguinist,'" said Lucretia. _"'They are not at all different from those who judge people based on their ethnic identity, their race. They're racist. For them, it's not about race but blood,'"_ she quoted. "Hm. Interesting." Lucretia rubbed her chin, pondering. She noticed in the corner of her eye Andromeda directing a rapt attention at the article. Someday, Lucretia would ask Andromeda about her active curiosity about muggleborns. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: My undying gratitude goes to Ninfea for beta'ing this chapter.

* * *

 

 

Bellatrix held her breath, concentrating on the target before her. This was her fourth time trying to cast the spell. She either kept missing the target or the spell wouldn't form. She jabbed her want and hissed the incantation.

Once again the spell just frizzled from the tip of her wand like a failed attempt to light fireworks. Bellatrix snarled in frustration and whipped her wand, an incantation for a Dark spell slipping past her lips.

The dummy exploded with dark smoke fuming out of it.

_Shit._

"Why did you use a Dark spell instead of the spell we just learned?" asked Harry, eyeing the dummy with an unreadable expression.

"Well it accomplished what I wanted anyway." She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Why does it matter?" she said, forcing her voice to be casual.

"But we were practicing this spell, Bellatrix."

"So what — I got rid of the dummy. If I were in a real duel, it wouldn't matter."

"Yes, it would matter," Harry said calmly. "If you're only trying to injure your opponent but you end up killing him, I think there's a vast difference."

"What's the point of leaving your opponent alive?"

Harry seemed shocked. "Are you always going to engage in a life or death battle? If you are in a battle, it's better to incapacitate your opponent and extract information from them."

"All the more reasons to use some Dark Arts and Unforgivables, then." Nothing squeezes truth out of people like Dark Arts.

"There are other spells you can use to achieve the same ends."

"Okay, I _will_ use them later," Bellatrix muttered through gritted teeth.

Harry sensed the finality of her tone and let the subject drop.

~*~

Andromeda was moping, instead of learning one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts spell as Harry was trying to teach her. She missed seeing her friends. And Ted. She corresponded with her friends via owls — the other day her friend wrote to Andromeda about her trip to Italy — but with Ted, there was no way to contact him in case her relatives decided to be nosy and opened up her letters.

Hogwarts was the only place she could meet Ted safely. Outside of school, it was too risky to see him.

All the political tension surrounding her emotions often overwhelmed her. It was so simple, to like someone. But in this world, it was more than an emotion — it was a politically charged move depending on whom you loved. And when the person you came to love stood for everything your whole family had taught you to dismiss and disdain ...

Andromeda envied those who could freely love without fear. Those around her would excitedly talk about their crushes in hushed tones, giggling, while Andromeda sat quietly. Of course she could consider herself lucky because her feelings were requited, but that didn't ease the matters.

But since it had been nearly the end of the school year when she did realise Ted liked her too, she was still bubbling with happiness — and it was such a torture not being able to share that. Andromeda wanted to rush into every room in the Black Manor and shout she loved Ted and Ted loved her back — she wanted to announce it to the whole world. Sod the pureblood politics, she was in love! But her spurs of bravery would quickly dampen into morose disappointment and utter loneliness of not having anyone in the family to share it with except Sirius. Not even her sisters could know about it.

"I recognise that look on your face," Harry said. "Come on, spill the beans."

Andromeda swallowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I know a love-stricken look when I see one. So, what's he — or she — like?"

Andromeda averted her gaze. "Nothing. There's no one."

Harry shrugged. "Okay, fine." Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Have it your way. But I'm here to listen to whatever you want to talk about."

She wanted to tell him. Oh, how marvelous would it be to tell someone — tell Harry about Ted, about Ted's kindness, his loyalty, his little habit of sneaking a fruit or two into his pocket for night-time snacks, what it sounds like when Ted says her name ...

Andromeda swallowed again, and cleared her throat. "Is there a charm or magical artefact that lets you communicate with someone far away without resorting to owls?"

"Ah, yes. You can enchant a notebook and embed both of your magical signatures. But you need the other person to cast the spell beside you."

_Dammit_. Andromeda realised she couldn't owl the notebook to Ted anyway. _Maybe next summer?_ Andromeda wondered hopefully.

~*~

A week after Bellatrix's destruction of the dummy, she was almost bored to death when Harry came up with an absolutely exquisite suggestion.

"Would you like to duel?"

Bellatrix perked up, her eyes searching Harry's face, trying to judge if he meant it. But then, Harry never had brought up something if he did not mean it. Sometimes, the man was such a Gryffindor.

They were taking a break after finishing the Leg-Stitching curse. The name made the curse seem like a healing spell used for stitching torn flesh in legs. But Bellatrix knew it didn't work like that when she read the description in one of the books about Dark Arts she came across in the Black library. It was rather a nasty curse. The curse literally stitched up victim's two legs, tearing through the skin and veins, crushing the bones, resulting in one floppy limb like that of the merfolk.

To Bellatrix, the effect of the curse on an engorged spider was rather quite amusing, though Harry didn't seem to find it equally funny. She kept casting the curse on the spider, stitching eight legs to four ... to two ... to one, until the spider could hardly be recognised as a living organism. She could feel the skin breaking off and latching on the other limb's skin through the magical tendril extended from the tip of her wand, vibrating with power. The Dark Arts usually had such vibration traveling through the wand. Bellatrix unconsciously reveled in the gentle buzzing that shook her soul.

Harry was meticulously polishing his wand with a velvet cloth. The expression on his face seemed as if he were cleaning thick blood stains off his wand, a stain that never lifted despite the firm strokes. After three weeks of observing Harry during their twice a week sessions, she found out that was some ritual Harry had always done after practicing Dark Arts.

Their sessions had fallen into an irregular pattern, if that even made sense. Occasionally Bellatrix would ask Harry if he could explain and demonstrate a spell or a curse she found in books. In truth, Bellatrix had hundreds of questions that sprouted from curses and spells she read in Dark Arts books, but after a month of trial-and-error, she realised Harry had a ... dislike in performing many Dark curses in short span. It was hard for her to understand this when it was absolute bliss to use Dark magic. Nowadays, she would feign that she 'accidentally' found an interesting magic and inquire Harry about it. Not too often, though. Bellatrix tried to make it seem as spontaneous as possible.

"We have been dueling for the past weeks," she pointed out, slightly confused.

"No, that wasn't dueling. It was — " Harry paused. "Well, yes, it was dueling in a way, but it was more like a battle on a small scale.

"What's the difference?"

Harry gazed at her with a patient and expectant face. Her mind turned over the characteristics of dueling.

"There wasn't ... any formal vow when we were dueling," Bellatrix said with realisation.

Harry smiled. "Yes. Formal dueling involves the magic binding the participants to fulfill their vows and promises made to each other."

"We're going to actually incorporate dueling magic this time?" Bellatrix breathed with awed expression.

"Yes, that is, if you want to." Harry shrugged. "I knew a month of studying theories and historical incidents would bore you. Even the practices with dummies weren't enough to satisfy you."

"Right you are," Bellatrix growled. Harry laughed.

The way to the practice room was gloomy. Even conversations with Harry couldn't lighten this hallway. Bellatrix was used to the grim portraits and frames on the wall eyeing those whoever walked past them. Typical Black eyes, cold and grey, would follow her, making the hair on the back of her neck rise, until she turned around the corner, only to feel more watchful eyes on her. Not even casual, warm greetings would come out of their mouths.

The curtains were drawn shut, the bright summer light finding them impenetrable. There had been days, long forgotten days, when she had resented, even been frightened of, the darkness of the manor. Now she regarded it with respect, even with pride. It gave her a sense of superiority, that the Blacks weren't common like plebeian families. Even other pureblood families were ordinary and low, compared to the Ancient and Noble Blacks.

They turned around the corner, only to see someone walk down the hallway before them. Bellatrix briefly wondered if it was Sirius or Regulus. Both had sleek black hair gliding down the nape. With Regulus having an early growth spurt, he was only an inch shorter than Sirius, leaving the height difference no longer an indicator to distinguish them from behind.

But after studying the stride and composure, Bellatrix concluded it was Regulus. Regulus' strides were not as boastful and haughty like those of Sirius — regardless of his 'black sheep' status, Sirius walked like a perfect Black — but rather seemed wearier with each step he took. Regulus walked as if walking was a movement that required conscious concentration, with his head slightly bent down as though he had to make sure he was walking like a proper pureblood. Seeing the bony shoulders of the boy hunched over stirred a complicated emotion in Bellatrix.

Bellatrix had adored Regulus in her own way. She had known how distressed Regulus was under his brother's shadow. She had tried to convince Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion that Sirius was a lost cause, a shame of purebloods, and that Regulus was the one worthy of upholding the name of Black. It hadn't worked. Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion remained unconvinced and their deadly determination to convert Sirius was strong as ever.

"Where is he going?" She muttered worriedly under her breath.

"He's probably going outside to collect some potions ingredients," Harry said. "There were so much dittany in the garden behind the manor when Regulus showed me around yesterday, just begging to be used in potions."

Bellatrix shook her head. Sometimes Harry was such a Ravenclaw. She then eyed Regulus as he walked away from their sight. She hoped there wouldn't be anything fatally poisonous in the garden.

"Grandfather Pollux has a thing for gardens. He's more reserved than Grandmother Irma. She's the one actively participating in family matters and politics." Bellatrix left the term 'meddling' unsaid.

Bellatrix looked around to see if there was any portrait of Irma. "I mean, no disrespect, but having a wife like her, you have to have a garden to plant away your stress." She needed a garden the size of Hogwarts grounds of her own to plant away her own stress caused by her family. Even that wouldn't be enough.

Harry suppressed a laugh which came out as a snicker.

"I admire his choice of planting herbs with magical properties," he remarked, changing the direction of the conversation.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "It wasn't any kind of venerable wisdom or skill. He just had an armful of random seeds and seedlings in his arms and tossed them around the garden."

Harry blinked. "Oh."

Bellatrix shrugged. "He did say that he noticed many plants that 'survived' were those with magical properties."

When they reached the room, avoiding the previous topic, Harry murmured some protective charms on the walls, floor, furniture, and other delicate ornaments in the room.

Harry noticed Bellatrix's amused face. "Er, I don't want Arcturus or Irma to hex me by destroying these." He gestured the whole room. Bellatrix doubted any Head of the Blacks would actually do that. They valued Harry too much to do anything that would alienate him.

Harry swished his wand, drawing the curtains apart and opening several windows. It was middle of July. The breeze was a bit humid, but it was refreshing to the usually cool, dry ambiance of the Black Manor. They didn't open the windows very often. Her parents — in fact, all the Blacks — liked to admire the view of the garden or comment on the delicate design of gilded frames, panes, or curtains, but never open them. From time to time, Sirius would try to barge in and unfasten some windows to test whatever ridiculous tricks he had, but he would eventually back down from their silent, reproachful gazes.

She liked the closure, the sense of security and isolation. But here was Harry, opening the long-closed windows of the Black Manor. And oddly, Bellatrix didn't mind the change Harry had unintentionally brought with him.

The warm, gentle wind fluttered through the chilled room. Soon, she was enveloped by the breeze. Bellatrix closed her eyes. Yes, it was a bit foreign feeling, different from the usual, but the change was pleasant.

She opened her eyes to stare at Harry, surprised to find the man also enjoying the summer breeze. Bellatrix inspected Harry closely in silence. He was staring off into space or perhaps the scene beyond the window. His eyebrows were mildly furrowed, an expression Bellatrix recognised from their lessons during which he employed whenever Bellatrix asked a question he couldn't immediately answer.

Then Bellatrix noticed something she hadn't seen before. Going back through her memories of Harry, she realised Harry always covered his forehead with his bangs. But now, with the wind blowing on his face, the usual bangs were brushed off, revealing a peculiar scar on his forehead. She squinted. It almost looked like a ... lightning bolt.

Harry turned around and met Bellatrix's curious gaze. She almost flinched in surprise as Harry slightly stiffened, his face closing off, devoid of any expression. He hastily brushed his messy bangs down on his forehead, effectively covering the scar.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't like people staring at it."

Bellatrix tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible.

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Harry silently cast Soft-Cushioning charms on the floor and on the walls. Bellatrix tried not to fidget like some fool and stood upright like a proper pureblood.

"So, other than the duel magic, there isn't much difference between a duel and a battle, right?" Bellatrix asked, attempting to break the awkwardness. The best way to do that was to ask a question. "Then why would people even bother to duel? They can just battle and win over the other to force whatever they want."

"I believe you just answered your own question," said Harry with a small smile.

Bellatrix blinked. "What?"

"You can just sneak up on people and cast Avada Kedavra if they're better off dead for your cause. You can cast Imperious or even Cruciatus to force someone into submission. Then why would people duel, some drawing runes, swearing vows, or stating terms — why would people go through that bother?"

Harry knelt down on the floor and started to draw rune lines on the floor. He noticed Bellatrix' gaze and raised his eyebrow. "Don't worry. It can be erased after the duel. Irma or Arcturus won't yell at us for staining the marble floor."

Bellatrix snorted. As if she would worry about that.

Her eyes followed the complicated pattern appearing under Harry's hand. She replayed the conversation in her head. Why duel ... Why not simple way ... Why ... 

Bellatrix's eyes widened as her mind clicked.

"It's about honor," she breathed.

"Yes." Harry nodded. "In a duel, you face the opponent in an equal ground. No sneaking up, no trap, just fair ground. You may oppose them to the extent that you are dueling with them, but you respect them enough to hear their conditions."

"The Order and the Death Eaters don't fight in duels that much," Bellatrix mused.

Harry sighed as he stood up. "Honor has many virtues but efficiency is not one of them. In a war, the goal is not to respect your enemies or honor them, but to kill as many as you can and dominate over the others."

"I guess it's too much to ask the Dark Lord and Dumbledore to hold their hands together and march off to duel."

Harry gave a half smile that looked like a frown. "That would save many, many lives, but we all know both of them are unwilling to face each other yet. Both are the scheming sorts. And the war is not something fought by only those two, despite the fact that they're the most influential figures."

Bellatrix had an odd feeling when Harry said that. Somehow it didn't sound like comments from someone who had been staying in a foreign county for years, only to come back recently. It seemed the sentiment came more from personal experience than from reading newspaper. How odd. She lightly shook her head to dismiss the notion, though she filed away the doubtful thought to pick at later.

Harry ran his hand through his hair as he stared down at the floor to inspect the runes. Bellatrix cocked her head, discerning the pattern, which was awfully familiar to her. She recognized it from the books she read. It was the most frequently used Duel style. Sun-like pattern extended its flaring tendrils.

She watched as Harry strode to the other side of the rune where the fiery lines from the center sun-like pattern extended. Then Bellatrix stood on the opposite side of Harry where the lines extended the longest.

"Remember the steps?" Harry asked as he stepped to the right, gliding his feet along the floor.

"Yeah." Bellatrix reflected Harry's movements in the opposite direction. With her right foot tilted in front of her left foot, she bowed, bending her knees and spreading her right arm. Repeating her motion, Harry glided to the side, slowly twirling along the way. Soon, they were stepping along the inner circular line of the rune, circling, getting closer to one another. Bellatrix kept her gaze on Harry's unflinching green eyes. She tried to keep her pace steady as the tension grew. Or perhaps it was the magic slowly entwining them.

Now they were only arm's length apart. The tension grew heavier as their knees lightly brushed against another like feather.

"It seems like dancing," Bellatrix commented, attempting to ease the tension. She swallowed thickly.

"It does, doesn't it?" Harry smiled, clearly amused.

Bellatrix held her breath as she slightly turned away from Harry, yet her head facing toward Harry. She raised her hand, her palm meeting Harry's in midair.

Bellatrix slightly gasped at the warmth of the other's hand. She could feel the pulse of Harry's heart through his hand, steady and calm. A human being's heartbeat. Bellatrix almost forgot to take the next set of steps. Her legs felt like jelly as if Harry cast a nonverbal Jelly-legs jinx.

"This is why this style was most often used," Harry said, startling Bellatrix out of her dazed state. "It reminds the opponents of the duel that they are dueling with a human being, not some kind of a monster that has to be vanquished; a human being who has emotional and social ties to this world and how your spell or curse in the duel could easily destroy the other's life. The touching of hands —" he pressed his hand firmly on Bellatrix's. Her fingers spread under the slight pressure, allowing Harry's fingers between them. Her pulse raced. "— is the key component of this form of duel. It brings out our humane sides, second thoughts, and possible regrets regarding the duel. It gives us an opportunity to think over our decision, to back down from the duel, to reconcile with one another in other forms besides dueling."

Well, it didn't have the desired effect on Bellatrix. Her only doubt, no regret, was holding Harry's hand which had an undesirable effect on her. She bit her lip. Bellatrix furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, determined not to get lost in Harry's calm voice echoing the room.

"Should you have an ounce of doubt whether you should duel with someone, be it the motive, the opponent, or anything, I strongly suggest this duel. By doing it, you are implying that you are considering reconciliation and you may end up with negotiation, instead of duel wounds."

"But wouldn't that be revealing a weakness?" Bellatrix asked in confusion.

"How so?"

"You are indirectly saying you have weak resolve to defeat the opponent and that you don't want to fight the person wholeheartedly. The opponent will recognize your disposition to reconcile, or rather, weakness in mind and determination. It's more likely that the other person will use that against you," Bellatrix said with fervor.

Having weak resolve, being unable to hurt someone in a duel, was even worse than having weak magic. It was like having a blunt, wood sword against an opponent with a sharp blade. Or having a plain, wooden non-magical stick against Aurors with Unforgivables on the tips of their tongues. Why would anyone reveal such trace of doubt in front of an enemy?

Harry opened his mouth but closed again. "I never thought of it that way. I always considered it as a short cut to reconciliation or peaceful negotiation. But you are also right." Harry inclined his head in deep thought.

It was only when Harry shifted to the right that Bellatrix realised they stopped treading along the rune lines for quite a while. Harry withdrew his hand and stepped back. Following the same, Bellatrix reached her wand, suppressing a disappointed sigh that threatened to escape. She looked up to see Harry appraising her.

"Regardless of whatever duel format, I want you to remember," his emerald eyes fixed on hers, "that the person on the end of your wand is the same human being as you, holding the other end of you wand. Never forget you are also a human being."

Harry lowered his voice. "Now, let's state the terms."

They both brought their wands up to their faces and bowed.

"The one who wins gets to ask a question. Whatever the question may be, the other has to answer it truthfully. What do you think?"

"That's too simple," Bellatrix protested. She was considering making Harry help her with all the Dark Arts she would come across without judging her. Asking one question? She inwardly shook her head.

"Not if it's a question that you are reluctant to ask in every day situation," said Harry with all the seriousness.

At Harry's comment, Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, her mind stretching in different directions.

Should she ask him where he lived? No, it made her sound like a stalker. Besides, it wasn't a big deal. Harry did mention once that he lived somewhere near or in Hogsmeade. Why he came back to Britain? Wait, did Harry say the reason already before? It might have been something related to family business or academics. Where he worked?

Bellatrix tilted her head. Other than coming to the manor to tutor them, what actual occupation did Harry have? What did he _do_ when he wasn't at Black manor? Didn't Harry once mention that he might try out for a part-time job at Hogwarts? Or was it just Bellatrix' wishful thinking?

She mentally paused. Other than general personalities and academic intelligence, the Blacks didn't know about Harry that much. Not about his personal life. It wouldn't be appropriate to question him about it.

But ... 

Her mind drifted as her eyes wandered from Harry's toes to his head. His face. His forehead always thoroughly covered with his bangs. The peculiar scar. Even more peculiar reaction of Harry.

Somehow the question about the scar seemed more intimate and more private than all the other questions that she came up with Harry's personal life. Nevertheless, this wasn't a simple question-and-answer time.

Bellatrix contemplated for a moment and nodded. Did she really want to ask Harry that question and risk the relationship they had?

_Yes_.

"Do you agree to the term, Bellatrix Black?"

Bellatrix could feel the magic purr against her ear, waiting to swallow the duelers with its power. She took a deep breath. She had to mean it for the magic to take effect.

"I agree," Bellatrix said with all the sincerity she could muster.

Then Bellatrix felt the duel magic settle around them. It enveloped her like a second cloak on her skin.

"Tell me how you got that scar on your forehead." There. She said it. Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh. She expected a more dramatic reaction from Harry when she asked that, but Harry only paused for a fleeting second before collecting himself.

"I will state my question after the duel."

"What?" she exclaimed. "That's not fair!"

"It is." Harry quirked an eyebrow. "It's never safe to ask a question to an enemy. By asking a question about something, you're already giving away that you now some things about it. Always choose your words wisely if you have to interrogate."

Bellatrix gritted her teeth at Harry's response. "I demand you state your question before the duel. As you emphasized, the whole point of a duel is to provide equal chance to all the participants. Your refusal to state the question will not motivate me to the same extent as my question might motivate you to win."

Harry sighed. "Okay, fine with me." He cleared his throat.

Bellatrix found herself both anticipating and dreading the question Harry will ask.

Harry's vivid green eyes met hers. "Tell me why you are so disposed to cast Dark magic," Harry said in a low voice.

Bellatrix froze in shock, the magic gliding through the air like a serpent, binding both of them.

She let out a shuddering breath and stepped away. Her footsteps rang out forebodingly. Maybe it was because Bellatrix didn't have an exact answer to Harry's question. Maybe it was because, she did have an answer but she did not want to reveal it.

Now standing few feet away from Harry, she realised she was going to actually duel him. She felt a brief surge of panic course through her but anticipation outweighed it.

Being a skilled duelist, Harry would cast advanced spells and curses unfamiliar to Bellatrix. What strategy should she use? Which spells? Which curses? She quickly went over the curses she knew, most of them Dark magic. But Harry would be able to block them. How should she defend herself from Harry's magic? He had the upper hand, having had more experience in dueling and magic. How can she shield the obscure spells Harry would use?

Her breath hitched.

Contego.

Yes, the Contego shield would be more than adequate for blocking most of the curses Harry would use. It should give her more leeway to attack Harry, albeit it would drain her faster.

Bellatrix lifted her wand arm, positioning herself in a dueling posture. Harry did the same. She felt a rush of magic sweep through her, signaling the start of the duel.

Bellatrix opened her mouth and whispered, _"Contego!"_

_~*~_

Bellatrix wiped her forehead, panting harshly. Even though she was physically exhausted from the duel, her mind was as lively as ever. She was exhilarated at the challenge before her. This man was a challenge. Also someone to challenge her limits, to prompt her to push beyond her capacity. There was no need to hold back.

Contego was withstanding most of Harry's curses. But Bellatrix couldn't help but suspect Harry not firing random attacks but deliberately sending some curses to figure out which shield spell she was using.

She hastily ducked as a nasty, crackling red spark headed her way. Instinctively, she fired a counterattack. Only when the curse left the tip of her wand did she realize it was a Dark curse. The Blood-Boiling curse. Bellatrix gasped and held her breath as the familiar feeling of dark magic made her involuntarily shiver. The ecstasy was short lived. Bellatrix felt her stomach clench with dread as she watched Harry narrowly dodge the lethal curse. She swallowed thickly, feeling her wand hand tremble.

Harry stared at her with unreadable expression, his green eyes flaring with something Bellatrix couldn't discern.

Her mouth tasted bitter and suddenly she didn't know what to do. She didn't mind casting such curses on dummies or animals. This was the first time she ever cast dark magic on human. The frenzy was much more intense but, but — 

Casting on Harry? What was she thinking? It was near instinct, almost like a reflex, but this — 

Her mind was frantic, uncertain of the next move. The duel was momentarily forgotten. What was she supposed to do? Say sorry? Or — 

_"Aguamenti maxima!"_

Bellatrix spluttered as a bucket of water splashed on her face. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the water out of her eyes. She yelped in surprise as she felt a stinging hex hit her feet. Bellatrix still couldn't see clearly because of all that blasted water, but she could see Harry drawing closer. She struggled to say the incantation — and she fell down right on her arse by a trip jinx. Bellatrix felt her wand slip out of her hand and the magic shift as it proclaimed Harry the winner.

" _Finite Incantatem."_

She gasped for breath, grasping Harry's offered hand. Harry pulled her up and returned her wand, and Bellatrix immediately dried herself.

"What was that?" she asked incredulously.

"What was what?"

"How did your spells get through the Contego shield?" she demanded. Contego was supposed to be one of the most powerful shields. What good would it do if it could barely withstand minor jinxes and household charms?

"I realised my spells couldn't get past your shield and threw some spells to see which one you were using. Indeed, it blocked out powerful spells and curses, but one flaw of Contego shield is that it has a threshold."

"What?" Bellatrix exclaimed, completely bemused.

Harry started to explain in a tutor manner. "It can only deflect curses or spells that are higher than a certain intensity. Jinxes and mild hexes are not as powerful as the ones Contego can shield, so they can get past it." Harry smirked. But then his face turned grim. He shifted to fully face her.

"I believe it's time to get my answer, Bellatrix," Harry said softly.

Bellatrix clenched her jaw. What was she to say?

The truth. Bellatrix cringed.

She felt the duel magic force out the truth she wasn't even aware of.

"I have some ... trouble with controlling my anger. Casting Dark magic helps me calm down," she said with difficulty. Bellatrix couldn't help but avert her eyes and touch her wand.

"That's one of many reasons why people become addicted to Dark magic."

"I'm not addicted to it!" Bellatrix snapped, although she heard a doubtful voice asking, _what if you are?_

Harry silently assessed her with his unreadable expression again.

She felt the magic pressure her. Bellatrix swallowed thickly. No, she didn't want to say that. It wasn't even true. Bellatrix clenched her eyes shut. Her breath quickened as she tried to resist the magic. No, she wouldn't admit it. She already gave an answer, which was surely enough. The magic wouldn't make her say it if she didn't think it was true. _No!_

There was blinding pain all over her mind, but somehow she couldn't express it. Her face remained blank whereas her mind was in chaotic agony.

Bellatrix suddenly wanted to cry.

"Sirius isn't good at it," Bellatrix let out between her clenched teeth. She said it.

But the magic wasn't satisfied. It pushed.

"He's always good at everything. His level of magic is supposed to be below me since he's younger! Whenever I perform advanced magic, Sirius would do the same spell but better," Bellatrix spat. "In every area of magic he would exceed except the Dark Arts. He doesn't have the will and the power to cast Dark magic. Dark magic is the only magic that I can do better than him. I can prove myself when I'm casting Dark magic. I don't have Sirius Black to overshadow me in Dark Arts." She finished with ragged breathing. Only then, did she realize with a start that she was shouting. Bellatrix pursed her lips in apprehension. She stared at the floor, refusing to see what Harry's expression was.

"And it's powerful," said Bellatrix matter-of-factly, collecting herself.

Harry was quiet for a while. Bellatrix kept staring at the floor.

He cleared his throat. "It's not about pure power. In a duel, it's about how well you use your surroundings and how to defeat your enemy without consuming your power too much."

Harry started to repair his partially scorched robe. "Don't let power be everything to you," Harry said without looking up at her. "I knew a man who did. He wasn't a pretty sight to look at." He chuckled dryly without amusement.

Harry cast a Tempus charm and swore under his breath. "I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but I have to go." He smiled apologetically. "Think about what I said, alright?"

Bellatrix nodded numbly.

"And —" Harry paused. "And I'll think about what you said."

Deep down, she really didn't want him to think about it.

~*~

"Potter, if you keep boasting about your skills in the Animagus transformation, I'll make you regret giving this mirror to me," Sirius half-growled in irritation, clutching the mirror not so gently.

Sirius had known what his Animagus form was before James did. And he started practicing sooner than James. But here was James, showing off his stability in partially maintaining the transformation, whereas Sirius kept having dog hair mixed with his human hair.

James merely scoffed, unimpressed at Sirius' threat.

There were some shuffling sounds at the other side of the mirror, and James popped his head into the view.

"See, see?" James grinned like an utter fool. "Look at my antlers, Padfoot!" James exclaimed.

"Oh sod off," Sirius grumbled. "How come I can't even manage my paws when you're sprouting antlers?"

"Well ... the Animagus transformation book did say you need peace of mind in order to transform successfully." James shrunk back the antlers into his stupid sodding head. "And since peace of mind is the least thing you can afford considering where you are ... maybe that's why you're having trouble." James eyed him carefully. "How are you? No major arguments yet? No breaking expensive —"

"No. Not yet." Sirius sighed.

Sirius knew James purposefully acted carefree and especially more mischievous when Sirius was back at the Black Manor to cheer him up. He appreciated James' attempt to distract him.

James looked down at his watch.

"Is it time for that git?"

"Yeah," Sirius said in misery.

Sirius flinched as the ward on the door alerted him of someone in front of his door. Sirius quickly whispered, "Talk to you later, Prongs," and the door opened. It was Carrow.

"Who were you talking to?"

He composed his features. "Nothing. No one," he said, surreptitiously hiding the mirror in his pocket.

"Hm. Thought you were going barmy for a moment," said the ponce, smirking in a knowing way that unnerved Sirius greatly. The git stopped on the doorway, swishing his wand. Sirius grimaced as the invisible dung bomb he had put appeared on the chair the git always sat on in Sirius' room.

Damn, how did he know that? He had spent hours searching for the right spells to make it invisible. He even thought of asking James to lend him his invisibility cloak, though James shot him a dirty glare when he mentioned he was going to hide a dung bomb, saying he didn't want to have feces on his precious heirloom.

"You would have much better luck next time if you don't stare at the chair and me so intently, having 'Merlin, he has to sit on that chair where I put something nasty that will make him scream like a girl' expression on your face," he said nonchalantly, smirking at Sirius. The git levitated the bomb and threw it out the window.

An ear-splitting shriek came from outside, right below Sirius' window. It was Bellatrix. Oh shit.

"Sirius Orion Black, I'm going to hex your balls off and shove them up your nostrils!" Bellatrix screeched. Sirius winced. He really needed to go to the Potters. Bellatrix meant it when she was screaming like that.

He glared at the man. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he scowled. The man stared back at Sirius with a too-innocent look on his face.

The ponce twirled his wrist, transfiguring a quill on his desk into a small wooden dog. Sirius felt himself involuntarily stiffen at the dog shape. The git may see through Sirius' prank but really, he couldn't know about his Animagus form, could he? Sirius had to shift nervously under Carrow's intent gaze. He was about to ask why he transfigured it to specifically a dog when there was a ferocious pounding on his bedroom door, shaking the door frame.

"OPEN THIS DOOR OR I'LL CUT OFF YOUR - "

Sirius grimaced, casting a protective charm on his crotch. Really, life had been much more peaceful before the git came into his life. And he wouldn't have had to protect his crotch without the git.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ninfea for the beta

After their initial dueling a week ago, Bellatrix and Harry fell into a regular routine of practicing spells and defense, against transfigured targets or on each other. 

"You've cast Dark magic again," Harry pointed out quietly. Bellatrix didn't miss the 

reprimanding tone between the lines.

"Why are you treating Dark magic like sinful atrocity?" Bellatrix demanded. 

Harry sighed. "Because it is. There is a reason why it's Dark, Bellatrix. I'm not saying this out of blind prejudice. No matter the consequence, the intention and the mechanism behind the Dark magic cannot be benign." 

"That doesn't matter, though. Dark magic is powerful enough to do so many great things. Can't the end justify the means? Is it so wrong to desire to be powerful? Is it so wrong to despise the weak?" Bellatrix protested. 

"No." Harry avoided her gaze. "I can't and won't judge someone else's views." Harry tiredly ran his hands over his face. "It's just – " he faltered. "Try not to despise the weak. Not everyone is born with equal power or level of power one wishes. There is no strength if there is no weakness to compare to." 

Oh, Bellatrix knew that much. "But one can try," she insisted. That was the guiding principle in her life. She could at least try. "Even if you're not born with it, you can harness what you are given and become something greater. That's the difference between the powerful and the weak. Those who try and those who don't even dare to try out of fear." 

Harry turned his head to face her. His resolute eyes already told him he did not agree with her rationale. 

"Not everyone who attempts to be powerful resorts to Dark magic. I dare say Dark magic is used by people who want to achieve power in a short time, without putting in much effort. I would go further, and say Dark magic has no power, but only hatred." 

That stung. It seemed as if Harry was accusing her for not having the resolve to even try. Bellatrix tried to ignore the pang in her chest. 

Harry stood up. "That is all for today." He turned to leave, but stopped midway to face her. 

"You once told me you cast Dark magic because that is the only magic you are better at than Sirius." 

Bellatrix remained silent, not knowing where this was leading. 

"What are you trying to achieve, Bellatrix? Is it the recognition from others that you are superior to Sirius? Or is it pure power? What is your intent that fuels the Dark magic? What is your anger aimed towards?" 

She hesitantly lifted her head to stare at Harry's face, expecting to find disappointment and rejection, but surprised to find none, only gentle worry. 

"I don't want to judge you for what you believe in, Bellatrix. Yes, I disagree with some of your reasons. But mostly I'm worried where this train of thought in your mind will lead you to." He took her hands and held them in a firm grasp. His hands felt warm in stark contrast to her cold pale hands. "I can't stand the thought of you left broken by the influence of Dark magic. Insane, or worse. Are you willing to have your dignity, your pride, your honor, and — yourself taken away?" 

"I won't, though," said Bellatrix fiercely. She wasn't one of those weaklings losing themselves in the Dark Arts. She would own them and wield them, but they would not own her. 

"Dark Arts is unyielding. It does not simply grant your wishes, Bellatrix. It is not a gentle, benevolent master. Dark Arts will consume your energy and life source the more you use it. 

"If power is what you want, I can help you. I _have_ been helping you with this tutoring. I can help you become powerful without depending on Dark magic. If it's something else, _tell_ me so I can help you," said Harry with fervor, his eyes bright with determination, willingness to help her, and hope – hope that she would take his hand, hope she would let him help her. 

"I always wanted to beat Sirius. And become powerful. That's my goal, to be better than Sirius, to be powerful than anyone else, to become the best duelist —"

She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop, not with Harry's eyes shimmering with encouragement and openness – eyes that promised understanding. 

After that? Then what? 

What was she trying to achieve? 

"Power can't be the end. It can be the means, but once it becomes the end … you'll — you'll lose yourself, Bellatrix." 

He sounded so scared … That look of open fear, not fear of her but fear for her sake …

It was endearing. 

Harry gave her hands a final, tender squeeze and released them. 

"I'm sorry if I sounded forceful. I just — I don't want to lose you." 

Bellatrix sat down on the chair and absent-mindedly twirled her wand between her hands. 

_I don't … I don't want to lose you._

His words echoed in her mind. 

Neither did she. 

~*~

Andromeda opened the letter and read it again for the umpteenth time ever since she came back home. 

_…Since I can't write any letters to you over the summer, I am trying to fit in all the words I want to say to you, but of course it's impossible. And you always make me very spontaneous anyways so even if I try to predict what I will want to say during the summer, it would always be different every time I see you. Now I'm rambling, aren't I? I always get sidetracked when I'm talking/writing to you. I only hope to have the same effect on you, but you're always calm and collected. Tsk. Maybe I'll try to make you blush next year. You can imagine me reading love poems and stories and listening to love songs over the summer trying to learn from the masters of love on the art of wooing._

_I'll miss you._

_Love,_

_Ted._

Andromeda would always compose a letter in her mind, beginning with _Dear Ted …_

But she never dared put her words to paper, fearing her family would find out about Ted. It was almost two months since she had last seen him. She thought of disguising Ted as a pureblood wizard but only a few questions would reveal Ted's muggleborn status. There were far too many unsent letters in her mind and memories – she would only hope to remember all of them in time for her reunion with Ted once the school started. 

"Ah, young love," a voice remarked from behind. 

She yelped in surprise as she frantically hid the letter under her books. Her heart thumped madly against her chest as she turned on her heels with her wand raised, the Obliviate Charm on the tip of her tongue. Then she sagged in relief when she saw it was Harry, flashing a knowing smirk on his face. 

"Harry!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on her chest. "You scared the wits out of me," she said, glaring. 

Harry closed the door behind him. "I take it by your reaction that your family doesn't know about this … involvement, then?" asked Harry. 

Andromeda shifted her feet nervously. 

"No. I don't think I can ever tell them," she said in a quiet voice. 

"And why is that?" Harry regarded her with genuine curiosity. 

"I – " she hesitated. Andromeda nibbled her lip. "Harry, are you a pureblood?" 

Her mental voice berated her stupidity. _Of course he's a pureblood. He's a Carrow, for Merlin's sake!_

Harry snorted. "Does it matter?" he asked. He gave her a disapproving glance. 

"No!" she said hastily, waving her hands. Harry thinking she was a pureblood extremist was the last thing she had in mind. 

She appraised Harry with careful eyes. Two weeks ago when Harry had asked her about her "involvement," she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Sure, she thought Harry was a good tutor, a good person — but not too sure of his view on blood. She knew he wasn't an extremist, but one never knew. 

But now, having observed him for a month now, picking up some of his remarks regarding her relatives' view, perhaps … she could trust him enough to divulge this. 

"It's not that. It's just –" she paused. Andromeda looked around to check no one was eavesdropping despite the closed door and lowered her voice. "He's a muggleborn," she whispered. 

"So?" he asked in a bemused tone. 

Andromeda blinked. "Wait, what?" 

"What?" 

"You're not going to bemoan about how could I, a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Blacks, date a _mudblood?"_ she said dramatically, draping her palm over her forehead, all the while bracing herself for the imminent judgment. 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Andromeda, how could you?" he said in an overly stern voice. "Or worse, you'll be telling me you're dating a Hufflepuff!" 

Andromeda sniffed. "He is." She still waited for the pureblood bomb to drop. 

Harry gaped, and then collapsed onto his seat with a crestfallen groan. "Merlin. You've done it. You're dating a Hufflepuff. _How could you?"_ he moaned. 

She looked at him in utter bafflement. "That's it?" 

He returned her gaze oddly. 

_What was this reaction?_ she thought, bewildered. What in the bloody hell? 

"You know my family is going to disown me when they figure out I'm dating a muggleborn to say the least," Andromeda said slowly. 

"Well … that is neither here nor there." 

"You're a Carrow," she said slowly. 

"You're a Black," said Harry equally slowly. Then his face paled. "Oh no, I'm not going to marry you to be your fake husband while you date him." 

"No!" Andromeda cried. "I wasn't implying that _at all!"_ she said quickly. 

Harry sagged in relief. "Whew. Okay." 

"But — but, you're a Carrow. You're a pureblood! Aren't you at all surprised or disgusted or disapproving of this thing?" 

He arched his eyebrow. "I mean, I am surprised you're dating a Hufflepuff." He shook his head. "A Hufflepuff," he muttered under his breath. 

She gaped at him. "That's the part that bothers you? Him being a Hufflepuff? Not him being a muggleborn?" 

Mischievous gleam in Harry's eyes faded. His gaze softened. "Oh, Andromeda. I don't care if he's a muggleborn or half-blood or pureblood. I've had friends who date muggleborns." He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry for being insensitive. Of course you're worried that your family will disapprove when they find out. But as I said just now, that's neither here nor there. So you shouldn't let your spirits down for something that hasn't occurred yet," he said gently. 

To her shock, she felt her eyes tingle and Harry became a bit blurry. She sniffed and tried to collect herself. 

"And I'm sure not all of your family would disapprove," said Harry with kind eyes. 

"Yeah. Sirius knows," Andromeda grumbled. 

She pursed her lips and let out a shuddering sigh. 

"It's just … I'm so _scared._ If Sirius is getting so much _shit_ just for befriending muggleborns, imagine what they'll do to me when they find out I'm dating one." 

"It'll be alright." 

For once, she believed him. 

They sat in silence for a while. 

"Tell me about him?" Harry asked lightly, breaking the silence. 

"What do you want to know? He's a muggleborn to start with. And that's the main problem." 

"Are you sure?" Harry said slowly. "He's a Hufflepuff to start with. He might be a snorer. And he might pick his nose. That might be a bit of a problem. Maybe he has bad breath." 

"He doesn't!" Andromeda bristled. 

Harry's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Okay." 

Andromeda flushed. 

Realisation dawned on Harry's face. "So that was why you asked me if there was another way to communicate without using owls." 

"Yeah." Andromeda nodded. 

"Hmm. We can review the Dark Creatures for NEWTs for today. And I'll look into Charms books that can give us few ideas on distant communication." 

Andromeda brightened. 

Throughout the session, Andromeda tried hard to stay focused on grindylows and werewolves and other magical creatures she learned when her mind kept straying on the possibilities of Charms application and replaying the conversation they just had. 

She stared at the door Harry had exited with an ineffable emotion pooling in her heart. 

This was … not the way Andromeda imagined her long-kept secret to be revealed to someone other than her trusted friends. This was not the reaction she was anticipating with unease. Harry was treating the whole matter as a plain teenage love, not some political, ideological, cultural conflict between the purebloods and muggleborns. 

Her feelings towards Ted now seemed … innocuous and normal. Oh she knew this feeling of normalcy would be short-lived once she thought about telling her parents. But that was, as Harry said, neither here nor there. This rare feeling was precious and she would cherish it as long as it lasted. 

~*~

There was a knock on Regulus' door. Regulus put down the Owl Delivery catalogue he was browsing through to keep an eye out for some ointment for the wounded snidget he had found the other day. He trusted Kreacher to take care of all the animals Regulus had found in the forest, but Regulus wanted to make sure there were enough snacks and medical supplies. 

Ever since the Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley, Aunt Lucretia insisted that none of the younger Blacks go to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade alone, so Regulus was left with very few choices including the Owl Delivery. 

Regulus stood up and reached for the door, and found Harry standing on his doorway with a broomstick in his hand grinning mischievously. "Are you busy?" 

"No?" Regulus answered, baffled. 

Harry's eyes had lit up behind the spectacles. "Great! Up for a Seeker's game?" 

"Sure." 

Regulus stared at Harry's back who was striding ahead of him with jubilant steps. Regulus thought he could hear low humming coming from Harry. 

Although excited, Regulus inwardly groaned as he predicted another defeat against Harry. Regulus reached for his gloves and left the room with Harry, heading towards the closet. 

It was incredible how Harry picked up such small details in his room. One day, Harry had seen a pair of Quidditch gloves on the unnoticeable corner of his book shelf and asked if he still practiced Quidditch during the summer. His immediate reply had come out as a no, for he had been a bit uneasy practicing in the field behind the manor. His parents – or rather, the whole Black family were disdainful of him playing Quidditch. Grandmother Irma once expressed her contempt for Quidditch: "Ungraceful, vulgar, and unsuitable for purebloods," she had muttered with a disparaging tsk. It provided his family some comfort knowing Regulus was a Seeker, "agile" and "noteworthy." Regulus still had winced every time he had encountered his relatives after his rare moments of Quidditch practice. Their clucking of tongues and whispered disapproval hadn't been encouraging for him. The summer after his second year was the first and the last time Regulus practiced Quidditch at the Manor in summer. 

But Harry had somehow gotten a permission to play Quidditch behind the manor from the Blacks. Aunt Lucretia told Regulus that she had seen Harry waltz into the patio where Grandmother Irma and Grandfather Pollux and Arcturus were having a tea, with a box of desserts. Aunt Lucretia said she could swear the three's faces twitched in barely constrained delight when Harry opened the luxuriously wrapped box to reveal pieces of absolutely delicious-looking cauldron cakes and treacle tart. It was a well-known secret among the Blacks that Grandfather Pollux and Arcturus both relished cauldron cakes and Grandmother Irma loved treacle tart. Aunt Lucretia thought it was hilarious for someone as acrid as Irma to enjoy eating something dripping with sugar. 

The conversation had started from politics as far as Aunt Lucretia knew – she couldn't stay for the whole time. But when she returned to the patio, the four of them were talking about Quidditch. How they ended up talking about that particular subject, Aunt Lucretia didn't know. In the end Pollux, Arcturus, and Irma told Harry he could fly behind the Manor if he wished to along with Regulus. 

"Come on, Regulus! You should be faster than this old soul!" shouted Harry, darting toward the field with barks of laughter. 

Regulus felt a smile slip onto his face, feeling utter happiness bubble in his chest. He mounted onto his broom and shot forward, laughter escaping him as he saw Harry's shocked face as he passed him easily. Hearing Harry's distant cry of "Not fair!" Regulus flew up higher and higher, throwing off all the restraints, all the pressure, all the frustration – just everything. It felt like an eternity and for a moment, Regulus thought he could escape. 

The air temperature slightly declined due to the height. The change somehow felt like an icy bucket of water on his face. Regulus slowed down and let his broom hover in the air. 

He took in the sight below and ahead of him. The Black Manor stood proud, even tad bit menacing, on the vast green field. It seemed dark and gloomy despite all the sunshine reaching it. As much as Grimmauld Place in London was his home, the Black Manor, where he would spend most of his summers with his relatives, was also his home. The forest around the field was what Regulus liked the most. It wasn't dangerous like Forbidden Forest, but the sheer size of it was comparable to the forest around Hogwarts. 

Regulus closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, the scent of aged, evergreen forest behind the manor filling his lungs. It was nice to get away from the city. Then Regulus caught a whiff of something else – something soothing, something familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar. 

"That was very clever." 

Harry was on his broom not far away from Regulus with his arms crossed, giving Regulus a pointed look. Harry looked at ease on the broom. 

"Not really." Regulus shrugged, slight grin tugging the corner of his lips. 

Harry smiled knowingly, but soon he frowned. "Is something on your mind?" Harry inquired, his eyes searching Regulus' face. Regulus felt his heart clench at Harry's genuine look of concern. 

Regulus didn't know what to say. Was something on his mind? Yes. There were far too many things on his mind, entangled in a chaotic mess. But one thing Harry might be able to help him with …

"Hey Harry," Regulus started hesitantly. "Can I ask you a favor?" Regulus bit his lip. It was always awkward to ask anyone something. 

Harry cocked his head. "It depends," said Harry with an encouraging smile. 

"Er," Regulus looked about and scratched his in embarrassment. "Do you think you can buy me something in Diagon Alley for a snidget? It's got a pretty deep gash on its wing." 

Most of the catalogues his family signed up were from Knockturn Alley, which had more stores about inflicting injuries than healing one. 

Harry's concerned face soon melted into an awed one. Harry widened his eyes in wonder like a boy first seeing a dragon. "A snidget?" Harry breathed, his eyes lighting up. "Of course I can do that." He paused, pursing his lips. "Can I see it?" he asked earnestly. 

"Yeah," said Regulus with relief. Good. That was that. 

Regulus noticed Harry was still awed at the mention of a snidget. He fumbled through his right pocket. Aha. He took it out and let it shoot away. "Only if you catch the snitch first!" 

Laughing like the 14-year-old boy he was, for once, Regulus zoomed ahead, once again leaving spluttering Harry behind. He spiraled around, turning and swirling to give Harry some time to catch up with him. When he looked over his shoulders, Harry already transfigured his spectacles into Quidditch goggles and was soaring toward him with a resolute face. 

"If I win, we'll have a lesson on grindylows and actually have one in your room to practice!" Harry bellowed. 

Regulus' broom faltered for a moment. 

"What?! No!" Regulus squeaked as he stared Harry's back in horror. Harry was joking, right? He hated, absolutely abhorred, grindylows. He had had nightmares about them after Sirius had sent him one in a wrapped water bowl via owl in Sirius' first year in Hogwarts. Regulus had been excited about the apparent present Sirius sent him from Hogwarts, having no doubt it would be something magical. Oh it sure had been magical – a magical creature. As soon as Regulus had unwrapped the package, a grindylow had jumped out of the bowl and latched itself on Regulus' face, entwining its long fingers around his head for anchorage, screeching ferociously. It had been a baby so its horns were only blunt bumps, but the slime, the sound, the face of it had made Regulus throw up and pass out. He still resented Sirius for that. Now, he regretted telling that episode to Harry. 

"Harry!" Regulus shrieked. "You can't do that!" Regulus shuddered at the image of having a grindylow in his own room. Not while he was alive. 

"Then you'd better catch it, Regulus." Harry winked and flew away, looking for the snitch. 

Regulus ignored the snitch and chased after Harry instead, pleading with him. After minutes of constant wailing and begging from Regulus, Harry called the bet off with a sigh. Regulus slumped on his broom in utter relief. 

"But you should learn how to fight it off," Harry advised. 

"I'll do it," said Regulus in hoarse voice. "When I see my great-grandchild fighting it." 

Harry helplessly shook his head. With a sigh, he resumed finding the snitch. 

Now with no grindylow weighing his shoulders, Regulus lazily flew around in circles, attempting to spot the snitch. But his eyes trailed behind Harry. There was a hint of desperation in the way Harry flew. Like a flight of a caged bird that was only let out to fly for an ephemeral moment. Regulus felt like a fledgling, fluttering his wings in slight hesitation mingled with fear. He wasn't that comfortable on brooms yet. 

Sometimes Harry would win the Seeker's game, sometimes Regulus would. But he suspected Harry was just letting him win occasionally. Regulus noticed, after several games later, that Harry used a trick, or feint, to make Regulus think he was going after the snitch. He recognized the feint only after he fell for it. 

This time the snitch fluttered around Harry, and Harry dived after it, flashing a triumphant grin at his direction. 

Afterwards, they flopped down on the grass, sighing heavily, and enjoyed the view of clear sky. For Regulus, it was like having a personal coach. Regulus swallowed. And having a brother back again. 

~*~ 

Sirius let out a heavy sigh as he sank to his bed. There were hushed excited murmurs outside his door, creaking sounds of the hallway floor, opening and closing of a nearby room – likely the storage. It seemed Regulus came back from his practice. Sirius hadn't known Regulus even liked Quidditch anymore. 

Sirius heard light steps next door, wandering around the room, and with a barely audible clink the steps died away. Regulus was still a naïve boy who didn't cast constant silencing wards around his room, like the other Blacks. 

Sirius was aware that Regulus had some sort of keys to something, but he couldn't care less what secrets keys locked – although he had a vague idea as to what it was for. What surprised Sirius was Regulus' decision to show whatever it was to Carrow. Regulus was quickly opening up to Carrow, Sirius noticed. Years ago, it was Sirius whom Regulus came to whenever something happened. Slowly, but surely, Regulus had withdrawn himself from Sirius. Or perhaps it was the other way around. 

Sirius shifted around to face the wall, closing his eyes. Thinking about Regulus wasn't a pleasant thing. To get his mind off him, Sirius concentrated on transforming. That brought a memory of James telling him few days ago that he managed transforming the hind legs. Sirius had made sure to laugh at James who had been walking around stiffly with antlers and a stag's hind legs, with hooves and what James called "a tightly-packed arse." When he had told James he looked like a Faun, James had made a gesture to charge into the mirror with his antlers. 

Lightly sniggering at the memory, Sirius scrunched his face in concentration, thinking of an image of a dog. 

Sirius stifled a hiss of pain as a sharp pang ran through his arm. He snapped his eyes open and watched with revolted fascination as his right hand started to morph into a massive paw. It was a bit grotesque to see and feel one's hand slowly rearrange itself into something else. Thick hair, no, _fur_ started to sprout, covering his arm in a thick, black fur ball. 

He winced as his arm transformed into its normal state, failing to maintain it for more than 20 minutes. Sirius sighed. He should ask James for some help. He reached for the two-way mirror. 

~*~

Narcissa held up a peacock feather in the air, admiring its shade of iridescent colors. 

_Hm. Not bad. Not bad at all._

She wasn't sure where Lucius Malfoy attained the information that she liked to collect bird feathers, but she had suspicions. 

Narcissa gently put down the feather along with her other proud collections on the glass shelf, enchanted with sanitation and preservation charms. The first row was already covered with feathers of different species with various hues, all in their best conditions. 

She picked up the letter which the feather was sent with, scanning it with slight amusement. Dear Narcissa, my elegant blossoming flower – Narcissa made a face at that phrase. Since when was Narcissa his? And the flower reference? Too cliché. 

Lucius Malfoy was basically saying: my family's crest is a peacock and we have plenty of peacocks at the back of our manor where you can have free access to when you become a Malfoy. Why don't you accept my courtship? From Lucius Malfoy who is generous enough to grace you with my attention since you seem to live up to my standards. 

Narcissa was paraphrasing to herself only a little. 

Did he think the free access to peacocks would sway her? Narcissa collected bird _feathers,_ not peacocks. She was not interested in seeing the animal the feathers were originally embedded on. Idiot. Now if Malfoys had birds-of-paradise — that would be a different matter. She sniggered to herself as she imagined Bellatrix chasing the stupid beasts over an immaculate lawn, hexing each one in different and inventive ways. 

Why was he courting her anyway? Usually in these cases, courtship was exchanged between the eldest. Narcissa had considered why Lucius Malfoy was courting her instead of her sisters and concluded that he thought they were too strong for him. Narcissa scoffed. 

Narcissa held up her chin proudly. She refused to be considered as the best alternative. Besides, there were far too many things in the world she wanted to do than getting married so soon. Narcissa looked at the world map that was covering almost half of her wall. There were pinned parchments on each of the countries she already visited – mostly confined to Europe. 

She slowly traced other continents with her fingers. As soon as she graduated from Hogwarts, Narcissa was determined to travel around the world – to escape Britain and its war. Even if Lucius Malfoy did turn out to be decent, she already knew he would not make a good traveling partner – fussing about the weather and his hair, not wanting to ruin his fancy robes, complaining about how all the traveling was straining his delicate nerves, refraining from _actually exploring …_

Narcissa shook her head. She carefully and deliberately crumpled up Malfoy's letter, then thought better of it and laid it flat in her owl's cage. Artemis rubbed her beak along Narcissa's fingers and hooted quietly – it almost sounded like the eagle owl was sniggering too. 

~*~ 

One day, Sirius thought his balls would fall off when the git Carrow ever so nonchalantly asked the question. 

"Why are you practicing Animagus transformation?" 

He froze very noticeably, leaving no room for feigning or denying. Shit, shit, shit, shit! He still had to try. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius said, suppressing his twitching eyelid. 

"I would have believed you if I haven't spotted dog fur on the back of your head and neck several times," he cocked his head sideway. "If you don't want your family to notice it, you should practice it until you have it under your control. Or I'd cast a constant Glamour Charm to cover up the fur if I were you," Carrow said. 

Sirius clenched his fists under the table, feeling the weeks of frustration boil inside him. That man didn't even know what he was going through. 

"That's what I've been trying to do for the past week," he spat, giving up on subterfuge. "I think I'm doing pretty damn well considering this is well beyond Advanced Transfiguration, thank you very much. Do you think it's easy to become an Animagus at the age of fifteen?" he seethed. He glared at Carrow … who was smirking. Sirius wanted to bang his head on the wall. 

"That's why I'm offering to help." 

Sirius whipped his head towards the man. "What?" asked Sirius, his eyes widening incredulously. "How? You're not an Animagus yourself!" 

Carrow raised his eyebrow. "Aren't I?" 

"What's your Animagus form, then? Can you transform right now?" he sneered, eyeing the man doubtfully. 

He laughed lightly. "Sorry, I can't reveal my form for number of reasons." 

"Among those reasons, is it because you actually aren't an Animagus?" Sirius pointedly stared at him. 

Carrow grinned. "Touché. No. It's more useful to keep my form secret," he said, pushing up the spectacles on his nose. 

Sirius didn't even try to stifle a snort. "What are you, a spy?" said Sirius derisively. 

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I may be a marauder, too." Carrow flashed a grin. 

Sirius paled. It was one of those instances Carrow slipped certain phrases or words that chilled Sirius to his bones. Sirius couldn't help but suspect Carrow knew about _something._ But what? And _how?_

Maybe Carrow was some distant cousin of James who heard about things from him. No, James would recognize the name if he was. Was he Peter's? Remus'? Or was it purely a coincidence? 

Sirius cleared his throat. "Suppose I am trying to become an Animagus." Sirius ignored Carrow's amused gaze. "What can you do to help me?" 

"It's not what I do that can help you. I can only give you advice." 

_Isn't that the same thing?_ Sirius inwardly rolled his eyes. 

"Do you know your Animagus form?" 

Sirius straightened his shoulders. "Yeah. It's a dog." 

Sirius thought he spotted the ghost of a smile forming, but it quickly disappeared without a trace. 

"Do you specifically know what kind?" 

"Yeah," said Sirius, wondering where this was leading to. 

"Then you should start by finding pictures of it and start drawing." 

Sirius frowned in confusion, not believing what he just heard. "What?" 

"Draw your form. The dog. Don't just draw the dog sitting. Draw it running, jumping, lying down, sleeping, eating, and other forms." 

"How's drawing my animagus form on parchments going to help me with the actual transformation?" asked Sirius doubtfully. 

Carrow took a quill from an inkwell and started to draw on a parchment. His bright green eyes narrowed in concentration behind the round spectacles. 

"When you draw your form," Carrow began, outlining a silhouette of a dog – a running one, judging by its outstretched legs. Carrow was pretty good at drawing, Sirius noted. "You focus on the details of your object. First you'll notice the general silhouette. Then as you get into detail, and the more you draw, you'll notice how the joints work to flex a limb, how a dog maneuvers its body around, and other features that are essential to know for transforming and functioning after the transformation." 

Carrow added in fur. 

"Animagus transformations are all about how well you know your form," said Carrow, putting down the quill. 

As Carrow said that, Sirius surprisingly got the feeling that Carrow actually knew his stuff. Perhaps the man was indeed an Animagus. 

Sirius scolded himself for feeling a twinge of envy. 

Sirius stared at the magnificent drawing of the dog and felt his insides sink as he noticed the drawing greatly resembled the dog that had come to his mind when he had closed his eyes months ago, meditating on his form. He involuntarily shivered. 

~*~

Three days. Three bloody days he collected pictures and drawings, drew dogs in various positions, learned about dogs, and envisioned his Animagus form clearly in his head. 

"So this helped you?" Sirius asked once again, gesturing piles of pictures and drawings, with an I-think-I-had-enough face. 

Carrow nodded solemnly. "Very much." He lowered his head to read whatever he brought. 

"Okay," he sighed and resumed drawing a dog digging its paws into the ground with hunched shoulders, having a ferocious growl on its face. Sirius soon became engrossed with illustrating. He … _liked_ drawing. It was such a simple and mechanic process – see and draw the same thing – but at the same time it required so much concentration and effort. While drawing, his mind didn't consciously or subconsciously drift to unpleasant things he'd rather not think about. Sirius' fingers deftly moved. The furs, the muscles, the bones, the –

"Do you have a werewolf friend?" asked Carrow nonchalantly as if he was asking what time it was right now. 

The quill in his hand snapped with a sharp crack. "What?" breathed Sirius, his face drastically paling. 

"I knew someone who had wanted to be an Animagus because the person had a friend who was a werewolf," said Carrow with a soft look. "I was wondering if your reason to become an Animagus is like that." 

"N, no," Sirius stammered. But he couldn't resist the urge to ask. "Did it work?" 

Carrow blinked. "What?" 

"Did the person become an Animagus?" Sirius felt his heart wildly beating against his chest. 

"Oh yes," the man said proudly. "He was absolutely brilliant in mind. He and his friends successfully became Animagi during their school years." 

A thought that Sirius had never deeply pondered on sprang up. 

"And … did it help their werewolf friend?" Sirius prayed the hopeful tone of his voice went unnoticed. 

Carrow stayed silent for a moment, deep in thought. Sirius oddly felt anxious about the upcoming answer. Then a slow smile spread on the man's lips. 

"Yes," he nodded. "They made their friend's transformation very enjoyable." 

Sirius let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding, slumping in his chair in relief. He didn't know why but hearing those words made him much confident that he could actually succeed, that they could actually help Remus. 

It did start as an idea of helping Remus in his 'furry' days in the beginning. They were discussing about what to do after finding out about Remus' furry problem – Sirius had an inkling of doubt that James knew about it all along but he was waiting for the right moment for Remus to be comfortable and Sirius and Peter to find out, and it was Peter – creative fellow, Peter was – who said that since werewolves were dangerous to humans; on the flip side, werewolves wouldn't be as harmful to animals. They had immediately started to research the Animagus transformation. But no one was sure if it would really help Remus. Still, they thought it was worth a try. But somewhere along the way, Sirius became more fascinated about the idea of becoming an Animagus – and the unimaginable possibilities that came along with it – than deeply considering if this would actually help their friend. 

Sirius bowed his head, ashamed. This talk about Carrow's friend brought him back to the initial purpose: helping Moony, helping his friend – so he wouldn't have to spend the full moon all by himself. 

With renewed resolution, Sirius concentrated on capturing the finest detail of the dog in his mind. 

~*~

Cheerful laughter reached Cassi's ears like a warm breeze. 

She turned her head toward the sound and found Harry doubling with laughter at the dancing shrub enchanted by Sirius. The shrub was wriggling its trunk sideways as its other stems were swaying up and down in a comical manner. Sirius' lips were pursed in concentration, yet his eyes sparkling with amusement and elation. Harry lifted his wand and charmed the shrub beside the dancing one, having both hold each other's twigs and swing dance. Sirius let out a bark of laughter, conjured a wig and a felt hat, and placed them on one of the shrubs. In response, with a chuckle, Harry put a bow tie on the other shrub. 

Cassi suppressed a giggle from their antics. 

It was nice to see Sirius laugh again. Cassi noticed resentment Sirius had around him like a second skin were … subdued. She was glad Sirius seemed to open up to Harry. 

Harry was _magical._ He brought magic into her life and into others. Her cousins … softened. That would be the best way to put it. The wild look in Bellatrix's eyes was tamed to a degree. Andromeda seemed less anxious. Narcissa acted like her age. Sirius' rebelliousness quieted down. And Regulus brightened. She felt a smile slip onto her face. 

Cassi saw something out of the corner of her eye, and turned to watch Aunt Walburga glare at a laughing Sirius and withdraw into the darkness of the Manor. She frowned at the coldness crossing Walburga's face. She was aware Sirius and his parents did not have the best relationship. Cassi always felt like one was stepping on thin ice whenever Sirius, Aunt Walburga, and Uncle Orion were in the same vicinity. 

But for now, all was well. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to Ninfea for the beta.

Once-overbearing silence had become an air of conciliation. Carrow’s presence, reading a book on the other side of the room, was even companionable, if he were to admit it. 

The Animagus transformation was still hard, but the presence of someone experienced with Animagi, or so he claimed, did wonders to alleviate his anxiety. But now maintaining his form was once again a problem. 

“Er,” Sirius started, hoping Carrow would turn around without having Sirius address him directly. 

No reply. He was still focused on reading. Carrow’s spectacles slightly slid down his nose. 

What was he supposed to call him? Mister Carrow? Sirius scrunched his nose. What was the man’s name anyway? 

Sirius cleared his throat. 

Carrow slowly raised his head from the book, pushing up the spectacles on the bridge of his nose. 

“Harry.” The man stared directly into Sirius’ eyes. “My name is Harry.” 

Sirius averted his eyes, disturbed by the man’s ability to read him so easily. 

“So,” said Sirius slowly. “Do you want me to call you … Harry?” 

“Well, it’s there to be called, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” said Sirius, looking away and still not sure of calling him Harry. 

“Now say it after me, Sirius. Ha – rry,” the man said carefully. 

Sirius flushed in embarrassment and humiliation. He muttered under his breath, “Git.” 

Harry countered, “Prat.” He grinned. 

It struck Sirius how casual their interaction was. Ever so slowly, this — relationship? — between Sirius and Carrow had begun to change from apathy and enmity to … something else. Something amiable. 

Sirius must have stayed silent for a while in shock, for Carrow asked, “What? I didn’t hurt your sensitive side, did I?” 

“What?” Sirius shook his head. “No.” Having been trained by James Potter’s creative insults, Sirius was immune to unimaginative remarks like ‘prat.’ 

“What were you going to ask?” 

“Oh, I was trying to partially transform my arm while looking at the drawing, but it keeps morphing back.” 

Carrow — no, Harry — stood up and walked over to sit down on a chair next to Sirius. 

“How does the transformation feel? Does it feel alien to you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Recall the moment when you’re arm is transformed. Does it feel alien? Uncomfortable? Repulsive?” 

Sirius considered the feeling, of bones realigning, of muscles thickening and thinning, of fur sprouting. “Well, not repulsive, exactly.” 

Harry nodded encouragingly. 

Sirius continued. “But it is … strange.” 

“Your body and mind are not used to the other form, subconsciously refusing the alien feeling of a new body.” 

“So … ?” Sirius trailed off. 

“The only way for your mind and body to accept the change is to practice often. People’s progress on Animagus transformation often depends on how well their minds are adjustable to the transformation.” 

Sirius eyed the man. “Did … did you have trouble?” 

He chuckled. “Of course. It felt like I had parasites all over my body.” His face turned solemn. “But I had to force my mind to accept it. I wasn’t given much time to spare.” 

Sirius perked up. “Should I do that too? Force my mind?” 

He shook his head. “No. Nothing goes right when you force something. But I was desperate at the time.” 

“I’m desperate too!” Sirius protested. James and Peter were both ahead of him! He had to succeed at the full transformation before the first full moon at Hogwarts. 

“No, Sirius,” Harry said firmly. “The risk is not worth it. Why are you pushing it so hard to achieve this so quickly? You’ve already advanced well beyond what is expected of wizards your age.” 

Sirius’ whole body jerked. And he clenched his jaw. 

“Look,” Carrow started. “I’ll help you as much as I can to get you used to your Animagus form. But don’t force your mind. Ever. It’s risky.” 

Sirius swallowed at the man’s final tone. He sighed. “Okay.” It seemed best to drop the subject. 

“Thank you,” said Harry with sincerity. 

Sirius stared at him in surprise. He was … odd, thanking Sirius for not pushing it. Harry leaned over and looked at his drawing. He cocked his head. 

“You’re quite talented in drawing, you know that?” 

“I am?” asked Sirius, surprised. Sirius didn’t often get a compliment during summer. He grinned. 

“Let’s practice transforming,” Harry said. 

Sirius took a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm himself. Then he concentrated. 

~*~

The change was subtle, but Regulus could detect it. The look of contempt that flashed in Sirius’ eyes in the company of Harry and other Blacks had eased into tolerance — no, acceptance. 

Regulus looked out the window and saw Sirius and Harry practicing Transfiguration outside at the back of the Manor. Sirius incanted a spell, transfiguring a shrub into a … doll? After a moment, the shrub turned into a dog shaped figure, but instead of having fur, it had leaves as a hide. 

Harry gently chuckled at Sirius’ mistake. Regulus could see Harry putting a hand on his forehead, attempting to hide his laughter. 

Not swearing or running off with spite as Regulus expected, Sirius sheepishly scratched the back of his head. When Harry continued to laugh, Sirius scowled and lightly punched Harry on the arm, an action that greatly took Regulus off guard. Sirius hadn’t shown that much proximity to Regulus in the last few years. 

Regulus swallowed down the bitterness that burned his throat. He didn’t know at whom this jealousy was directed. 

The soft look on Harry’s face which Regulus thought was only reserved for him was now toward Sirius. And Sirius was opening up to Harry, showing his playful smiles and antics, while giving Regulus the cold shoulder for years. Harry had worn down his brother’s defenses much quicker than Regulus himself had, and in a span of month of knowing him. 

Regulus felt as if sharp quills were piercing his heart like thin parchment. 

Sirius always took everything away from him. Their parents’ attention, the teachers’ praises, and so many other things. And now Harry’s affection. 

Regulus bit down his lip, his eyes downcast. 

He would forever be standing in Sirius’ shadow. 

~*~

As much as Andromeda abhorred the afternoon tea time with her relatives, the cauldron cakes were heavenly and worth enduring her relatives’ obnoxious presence. 

“Did you read _the Prophet_ today?” said Irma after she devoured a piece of treacle tart. 

“Mhmm,” Pollux affirmed. 

“Another muggle village was raided,” said Walburga without a hint of remorse or sympathy. 

“Heard another mudblood family got wiped out,” said Arcturus casually while sipping his tea. 

Andromeda almost dropped her cup. She tried to breathe steadily. “Where was this?” she asked, carefully keeping her tone dispassionate. 

“I didn’t look too carefully. I just couldn’t care less,” said Walburga coldly. 

She hardly registered the pureblood gossips her relatives were so fond of talking about as she sipped her tea. She felt numb. 

Andromeda excused herself and rushed into her room. 

Sod this. She didn’t care if her family found out she corresponded with a muggleborn. She needed to know if he was safe and well. 

Andromeda frantically searched for a piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill, and furiously scribbled her worry onto the parchment. 

Once she finished the letter, fear gripped her heart again. 

What if her parents and her relatives found out? Was it worth it? 

Of course she loved Ted. She loved him so much that on some days, she felt like just announcing it in front of the Heads of the Blacks 

But she was sixteen. 

Was she going to marry him? Who knew? They didn’t swear an eternal oath of love or something. Of course she hoped it would last forever. But… what if they break up later and she finds someone else? 

Was her relationship with Ted right now worth risking everything? Everything she had with her sisters, her parents, and her relatives? The wealth and the connections? 

Andromeda knew she would instantly owl Ted if she was at least a legal adult with her own footing in the world. But she wasn’t. Despite feeling like a grown up, she was still sixteen. And she was still dependent on her family. 

Andromeda wasn’t paying much attention to what Harry was saying about Charms; her mental debate over the letter kept her occupied. 

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” said Harry, disrupting yet another passionate argument in her mind. 

She jerked in surprise. “How…?”

“I heard about the attack. I can deliver the letter, if you’d like. Or find out if he’s okay.” 

She grasped his hands in a tight grip. “Oh, would you, Harry? Please?” 

Harry nodded. 

She almost sobbed in relief. 

~*~

Cassi blamed herself for letting her guard down around her cousins, especially Sirius. But who could really blame her? Sirius was too immersed in pranking Harry for the entirety of the summer so Cassi thought she was off his prank radar. 

When Cassi was walking down the hallway, out of nowhere, Sirius popped out with a very realistic looking banshee model hanging on a fish rod, dangling it right in front of Cassi’s face. 

The banshee opened its jaws and let out a blood-curdling scream. 

“EEEEEEEE—” it screeched, its bloodshot eyes rolling backwards. 

Cassi let out a shriek herself, and lashed out in defense, kicking Sirius on the shin. 

“OW!” Sirius yelped, clutching his leg and hopping around. The Banshee on the rod also dangled jerkily as Sirius kept bouncing around. 

Andromeda rushed out of her room to see what the racket was about, pausing to take in the scene in front of her. 

Then she cackled. “You’re lucky little Cassi didn’t blast accidental magic, Sirius.” 

Cassi inwardly sighed in relief as she saw Andromeda laughing. She had been reticent and withdrawn lately. 

“True that,” Sirius grimaced, rubbing his leg. 

“Take that horrid thing away from me,” Cassi scowled. “I’ll take this as a declaration of prank war.” She turned to Andromeda. “Andy, you’re with me.” 

Andromeda grinned and bowed. 

_“Sirius! What on earth were you thinking?!”_ shot out a voice from the doorway. 

Sirius jumped, looking guilty. 

Lucretia paced over with a frantic look and fussed over Cassi. 

“Mum, I’m fine, no, I’m really _fine,”_ said Cassi, swatting her mother’s worried hands roaming on her face. 

“I know, dear. But you did pass out a few weeks ago.” 

Lucretia thought her heart would burst from fear when she found her daughter on the floor, ghastly pale and cold. 

“That was _weeks_ ago!” Cassi cried. It had taken her at least two weeks to convince her mother that she was fine and she can handle the outside world enough to go to Diagon Alley with her. 

All the while, Irma and Arcturus silently watched the interaction shrewdly. 

~*~

Regulus stared at the man whom he was starting to regard as an older brother figure, something Sirius had refused to become. Harry smiled encouragingly at him, prompting him to go on. 

He had told Harry he wanted to try brewing Veritaserum on his own few days ago. Harry had offered to supervise, but not directly help him. 

No tips and help were to come from Harry, yet Harry occasionally spoke out loud to praise him, “Well done.” 

He was in the final stage of Veritaserum brewing. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he saw Harry’s expectant face shining beside him. The silent support from him helped Regulus calm his shaking hands. 

The potion turned colorless, and the prevailing scent receded. After few minutes, colorless and odorless, water-like liquid shimmered in the cauldron. 

“I did it!” he rejoiced. 

In the heat of jubilant outburst, Regulus rushed to Harry and enveloped him in a tight hug, laughing joyously. “I did it, Harry! I brewed Veritaserum! On my own!” He buried his face against Harry’s chest, smiling. Then realizing what he was doing, Regulus abruptly pulled out of the embrace with a start. But Harry pulled him in his arms with a triumphant laughter, holding him firmly. 

“Yes, you did!” said Harry as he let go. Harry beamed at him, eyes flashing in pride and with delight. “I knew you would.” 

Regulus resisted the urge to scratch the fuzzy spot on his chest at Harry’s warm gaze. Then he perked up at the thought of telling his parents about his accomplishment. 

“Can we call it a day?” Regulus asked, barely masking the enthusiasm to tell his parents. Oh how proud they would be to hear Regulus – at the age of thirteen! – brewing something as complex as Veritaserum! 

“Okay, okay.” Harry tried to calm him as he levitated the cauldron away from half bouncing Regulus. “I’ll put this on your desk, alright? Just be careful with it.” 

“I will!” Regulus piped up. He inched forward to the door, almost blocking Harry’s way. He laughed and led Regulus out the door. 

“I’m going to Diagon Alley now. Anything you want me to get you?” Harry asked while heading towards the Floo. 

“No, I’m good!” Regulus enthusiastically waved goodbye. Harry grinned and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing with a roar of the green fire. 

Regulus rushed to the lounge where his parents usually were. They weren’t there. He dashed to other rooms, peeping in. 

Unsuccessful on the first floor, Regulus hopped up the stairs, pushing the hair strands out of his eyes. His face brightened when he found his parents standing in the hallway. 

He half-ran up to them. “Mum! Dad!” he called, eager to tell them about the Veritaserum. 

His smile quickly dissipated by their stances. Walburga held up her hand impatiently. “Reg, dear, just a moment.” 

Regulus snapped his mouth shut, sensing the tense atmosphere around them. 

“ – you mean I can’t go?” Sirius’ voice echoed in the hallway. 

Regulus bit his lip. It was Sirius. Again. 

He shifted around to see what was going on, resisting the urge to scream out loud. 

“It’s a formal invitation – I can’t refuse that!” Sirius said, waving a parchment with a Potter family crest on it in their father’s face. 

“ – you’re associating with Potters – ” Orion’s voice held barely-contained anger. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Sirius shot back. “They’re _purebloods,_ aren’t they? The Potters are almost as old as the Blacks! Why can’t I associate with them?” 

“They’re muggle-loving fools,” his father hissed. “Dorea’s become a mindless pawn of Dumbledore. I won’t have you degrade the Blacks by socializing those mavericks! Don’t you have any regard for how much your actions cost us?” 

Sirius tensed up. His hands tightened into fists, and Regulus began to panic. 

“That’s funny,” Sirius shouted, “because the only people I feel sorry for are the Potters for disgracing them because I’m a Black!” 

His father’s face turned an ugly shade of red. 

Walburga stepped forward and faced Sirius. “Do not speak about the family name that way. You may go to the Potter’s on this occasion. Merlin knows what would happen if we declined the Potters. But act according to your station, Sirius,” she said coldly. “Or we’ll have to consider transferring you to Durmstrang to correct you.” 

Sirius stiffly nodded and strode into his room without a word, and slammed his door shut. 

She turned around. “What did you have to tell us, Regulus?” 

Regulus felt a knot twist in his stomach at his mother’s tired voice. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Nothing.” 

He turned and fled. 

~*~

Harry slowly opened his eyes, once again waking up with a splitting headache. He blearily stared at the ceiling for a while, blinking away the sleepiness. 

He took a quick shower, fixed a breakfast for himself – a simple tea and a muffin, and pulled out a robe and a vest from his closet. While putting on the vest, his spectacles were caught in a loose string and fell off his nose. He fumbled with the tangled string for a few minutes, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and succeeded in disentangling his round spectacles. He let out a heavy sigh as dizziness that one got when focusing on a tiny thing for too long swept over him. With another exasperated sigh, he put down his spectacles on the kitchen table and cast a charm on his eyes. Even after casting the charm, thus having a clear vision, out of habit, he lifted his hand to push of the spectacles, only meeting his nose. He shrugged. 

Harry once again headed to Diagon Alley. 

~*~

Mundungus Fletcher grudgingly surveyed the Diagon Alley with jaded eyes, occasionally kicking the particles of broken bricks at his feet in a fit of boredom. He took care to stay in the shadows at the edge of Knockturn Alley, his stout stature giving him some advantage. Dung flicked his wand to light a cigarette, also casting a charm to dissipate the smell and the smoke coming from it, and took a deep breath, bitter and hollow scent filling his lung. He checked the time and grumbled. That crook was supposed to meet him few minutes ago. He scanned the crowd again. 

He was officially here to look out for another Death Eater raids as a member of the Order of Phoenix. They were taking shifts to guard major Wizarding sites for possible raids. 

But unofficially, he had a deal to make. 

He fiddled with the enchanted pouch containing cauldrons he was supposed to trade with the crook he was meeting today. The crook had said he saved something good for Dung, but every crook with dubious background always said such thing while in business. 

In the corner of his eye, Dung saw a young man walk out of Borgin and Burkes with a large, flat parcel tucked under his right arm. The man stood nearby the entrance of Borgin and Burkes for a moment, seemingly at a loss, wearing a look of a child who did not know where to go. What a peculiar face for a person to wear at such age, Dung mused absent-mindedly. Everyone on the road had a destination in mind, and amongst such crowd of people who took each step with clear intent, the man’s aimlessness substantially stood out. But Dung dismissed the man. Probably another crook or a painter trying to sell what seemed like a painting but failed to catch Borgin or Burke’s attention. 

Dung sensed someone approach from behind and knew it was the crook he intended to meet. 

“Took you long enough, you scum.” Dung shoved the bag onto the other’s chest. The shabby man toothily grinned, revealing yellow, crooked teeth, and let out a cough-like laugh. “I’m telling yeh, this is good.” The man dug his hand in his inner coat pocket and pulled out a bag. He beckoned Dung, urging him to bend over in a conspiratorial manner to get a good look at the content of the bag. 

As he calculated the estimate value of the goods inside, Dung forgot about the green-eyed man. 

He caught a sight of another man in his mid-twenties coming out of the Knockturn Alley: Evan Rosier, a talented Curse-Breaker who was on the Order list of potential ally to recruit/potential Death Eater to keep watch on. 

His dark hair was well-groomed, and his skin pale as if he spent the past few weeks inside and documenting files instead of being outside under the blazing sun. 

“Evan Rosier? What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be in South America?” 

Rosier stopped in his tracks and lazily looked at him. His languid dark brown eyes swept over Dung. “Why, if it’s the infamous Mundungus Fletcher. Keeping tabs on me, are you?” 

Rosier eyed him dispassionately. “Heard the rumors that you’re working for … quite the opposite of the sort you normally associate with. Change of heart?” He tilted his head and smiled charmingly, which shifted his languid features into looking like a mischievous boy. 

Dung just scowled at him. He owed Dumbledore loyalty for saving him from a very tight spot, saving his life. 

“What about you, then? Which side are you associating with?” 

Dung pointedly looked down at Rosier’s left arm. 

Rosier laughed softly. “Side? Oh, I don’t play favorites. Treasures and traps are my passions, Fletcher, not wars. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way to meet my fellow Curse-Breakers.” 

He did not bother to wait for Dung’s reply as he swiftly turned and walked away. 

Dung grimaced and made a note to himself to report to the Order that Evan Rosier was back in the country. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian Stan is my muse for Evan Rosier.


End file.
